Vessel's Shadow
by Thunderbolt Blast
Summary: It took eight years until Yugi solved a puzzle, as well as three thousand until a spirit was released from imprisonment in darkness. Once freed, however, the spirit in question remembers nothing of her past life, and knows nothing but to protect her rescuer at all costs. Fem!Yami AU. Manga-centric with elements of the first series anime/season 0.
1. The Millennium Puzzle

The sun was high and the sky was bright, that day in Domino City. The air was particularly pungent with the scents of asphalt and newly mowed grass, only offset by the litter gone ignored by passers-by on the ground. It was particularly prominent around the high school, currently in session, as proven with a sound memorized by the entire student body.

_Riiing_!

The sharp noise was enough to set off a new wave of chatter as students moved in a crowd to pour out from classrooms and into the hall, a sea of blue and pink school uniforms. It was, as far as almost everyone was concerned, merely another typical day at Domino High, another line of classroom sessions to slog through until the weekend.

The "almost" was a scrawny, spiky-haired boy in one classroom in particular. He had heard the bell quite clearly enough, but he was too fixated on rummaging through the schoolbag on his desk to notice his classmates lining up to leave, talking among themselves the whole way, at least until one glanced over his shoulder and called out to him teasingly.

"Hey, Yugi! Staying in alone again? How come you're not going to play basketball?" The boy's voice was enough to make him jump a little, looking up somewhat nervously with one hand still in his bag. The second his mind registered just what he'd done, he gave himself a mental kick. He really had to stop being startled when people talked to him, it made him look paranoid.

"Oh—it's fine," the boy named Yugi, Mutou Yugi in full, replied weakly with a small, apologetic smile. "I'm not really good at basketball anyway."

The speaker, someone he didn't know or normally talk to outside of class, seemed to take that as an acceptable response and merely gave a shrug, turning away to rejoin his friends. Yugi tried to push down the small pang he felt at that, watching everyone else depart to head out. It was certainly nice when people talked to him—and called him by his first name, no less—but he had to remind himself they weren't his friends. He was still just the quiet runt at the back, as much a part of the background as a desk or chair, like he was used to being.

At least he'd brought his games. If there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his skill with them—he'd finished and replayed them numerous times before, all except the one he was looking for now. He bit his lip slightly, brow slightly furrowed as he burrowed his fingers through the pack's contents—papers, books, pencils, boards, small contraptions—until they finally closed around a familiar cold surface.

_Yes_!

From the bag, Yugi withdrew a solid gold box the size of two fists pressed together and engraved with numerous markings, including a prominent eye symbol, handling it as carefully as if it were made of glass before placing it on his desk. Looking down at it, he couldn't repress the smile now forming on his face. The treasure inside it was one he'd prized for years, a puzzle he had been working to solve. If he was lucky—and, hopefully, there'd be an exception now, as he usually lacked in luck otherwise—it'd finally be finished today. Today would certainly be an important day, if only for him.

But he'd barely cracked the lid open when it was snatched out right from under his hands, whisked directly into the air. "H-hey!"

None other than Honda Hiroto stood there, box in hand and grinning menacingly. "What's _this_?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in mock contemplation at the object. "You want to sit in here alone, all dark and gloomy, just with this dumb box? Or...oh, I get it. This is your _treasure_!"

"Honda!" Yugi shoved himself out of his seat and onto his feet. He swiped an arm futilely forward through the air as the taller boy held the box above his head, waving it just out of reach. "Please! Give it back!"

Honda only laughed. "Jounouchi! Catch!"

The light streaming from the window struck the box's surface as it was flung through the air, flashing blindingly white into Yugi's eyes and making them instinctively blink as he jumped in a failed attempt to catch it and stumbled when he landed. The second he'd managed to get the light out of his eyes, he saw that the blond boy with Honda—known as Jounouchi Katsuya—had caught the thrown thing effortlessly in one hand and was now tossing it up and down, catching it in the air, as if it were nothing more than a cheap trinket.

"I'm—I'm serious! _Give it back_!" Yugi shouted, trying and failing to keep the panic out of his voice. He made another jump in an effort to grab it, this one slightly higher than the last, but no more effective. "Please! It's important to me!"

"Looks _real_ important, since you're being such a little girl about it," Jounouchi sneered, making another toss with the box. "And stop with the jumping, will you? It's annoying!"

"But—"

"Hey, here's a deal." The lanky delinquent, who towered over Yugi by more than a good few inches, caught the box and held it resolutely up over his head. "Prove you _really_ want this and be a man about it, and I'll give it back!"

"I—I'm not going to fight you over it!" Yugi burst out. "I don't do violence!"

"Don't do violence? Great, you're one of _those_." Jounouchi clapped one hand to his mouth, making an expression akin to someone sick as he glanced at Honda. "No spine at all. Ugh."

Yugi let out a long, dejected sigh, shoulders slumping. He knew he should have been used to this by now, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. "Okay—fine, that's true. But please...just give it back."

"No way!" Honda hooted, his smug grin even broader. "C'mon, we haven't even seen what's in it! Why not open it, Jounouchi?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jounouchi briefly rotated the thing in his hands to examine it from every angle, his expression rather scrunched together, as if wondering just what about it was great enough for a dweeb like Yugi Mutou to be willing to beg for. His fingers soon found the crack of the top, digging in to pry it open.

Yugi's throat suddenly dried, and at that moment, it seemed miraculous his already pounding heart didn't bolt out from his chest then and there. "W-wait! Don't—you can look at it, but don't lose it! It's—it's valuable!"

As if to illustrate his words, the blond popped the lid open just wide enough so that it wasn't completely off, yet it was enough for him to catch a glance of just what lay within. But the "treasure" he saw was, to a strange sense of disappointment, nothing he'd been expecting. He gave a loud scoff.

"_That's_ your precious treasure?" he jeered derisively. Pausing only to shut the lid again and brush his fingers through the gap before it fully closed, he half-heartedly threw the object over his shoulder towards Honda. "You gotta be kidding me."

"_You_ again!"

The familiar voice was enough to make the three of them all freeze on the spot, leaving a hand to promptly reach out and grab the box in mid-throw, mere inches from Honda's own fingertips. The source herself, Mazaki Anzu, stood just near the door with a glare hard enough to melt steel and said item in her grip. It was then that Yugi never felt more grateful to her, his only friend for years, than he had at that moment.

"What did I tell you two last time?" she snapped, cerulean eyes blazing. "Leave him alone! You're cowards, picking on people smaller than you! Now if you know what's good for you, _beat it_!"

Jounouchi and Honda needed no further persuasion. They bolted from the room as fast as their legs could carry them, practically kicking up dust as they went. "Don't think this is finished!" Jounouchi yelled from over his shoulder, just before they rounded the corner and disappeared down the hall.

As the sound of their retreating footsteps faded, Yugi exhaled. "Thanks, Anzu. I really owe you one."

"It's no problem, Yugi." The pretty brunette moved to put the box back down on the center of his desk, almost as gently as he had handled it. "They're just jerks, don't let them get to you. Though..." She paused, gazing curiously at the item. "...you still haven't completed the puzzle, are you?"

Yugi rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he sank into his seat. In turn, his friend pulled up a chair so that when she sat down, his desk was between them. "Well, no, not yet," he admitted, gaze downcast. He perked up almost immediately, however, as he took the container's lid off to reveal what was inside. "But I just have a feeling that today'll be the day I finish it!"

Inside were numerous gold pieces piled together in varying sizes, with jagged edges and crooked shapes. Roughly a third of them were connected as their part of the puzzle, but the rest were too haphazardly scattered among each other for there to be much of a discernible shape. They gleamed in the sunlight, shimmering starkly white with a pure surface on each one of them, as if they had never before been touched by human fingertips. This was particularly outstanding, given who their owner was.

"Wow..." Anzu breathed, mesmerized by the sight. She reached to pick up a few of the fragments still left separate, rolling one over between her fingers in fascination at how it glittered. "You've definitely made some progress. What shape do you think it'll be?"

"I'm still not sure," Yugi admitted. "I mean, it _is_ a 'thing that can be seen, but you haven't seen it', like the riddle here on the box says. It's too early to tell, but it's the farthest I've gotten with it in eight years. Grandpa's ecstatic."

"I'll bet he is," Anzu murmured to no one in particular. She cleared her throat. "Speaking of your grandpa, do you think he'd mind if I drop by the day after tomorrow? I've been having trouble with that essay for Mr. Nakamura, we could look over each other's work, just to see what we have."

"Oh, no, it's fine!" It wasn't often that Anzu came over, and the times she did were valued by Yugi rather highly. "I haven't worked on it too much myself, though..." he added awkwardly. "I'm not really good with writing."

Anzu laughed. "Don't worry about it. Neither am I." She paused and winked. "Hey, you said that the box's markings say the solver of the puzzle will be granted a wish. Maybe that could be yours—to be a better writer!"

At that, Yugi couldn't stop his own laugh. "Yeah, that could. But I do know what I'll wish for, and that isn't it."

"Really?" Anzu grinned. "What is it, then?"

"Sorry, can't tell you." Yugi gave a wink of his own. "It's a secret."

* * *

"Shit." Jounouchi bit out the word, hands shoved in his pockets. Storming down the hall with Honda while recess was still in progress outdoors, his expression was enough for one to be glad that looks couldn't kill. He swore again and stopped only to slam his foot into a nearby locker door, practically denting the metal with the sheer force of his frustration-fueled kick. He didn't even register the pain shooting up his leg from the impact, too busy glaring at the locker to care. "That nosy bitch. Who does she think she is, acting like she's the boss with that little geek?"

"Oh, shut up," Honda snapped, face set into a scowl that was equally as foul as his friend's. "Just let it go. Why should we care about her? Not our fault she can't take a joke."

"That _Mutou_ nerd is enough of a joke," Jounouchi spat, pushing his foot off of the door. "And so is she, if you ask me. 'Picking on people smaller than you'...ha!"

"Who's been picking on people smaller than you?" a steely voice asked quietly from behind.

The effect was instantaneous. The two all but jumped several feet into the air, scrambling backwards and nearly tripping over their own feet in an attempt to get back. All color drained from both of their faces when they turned and saw just who was standing in the middle of the hallway and glaring down at them as if they were pond scum.

The person in question happened to be Ushio, the hall monitor and self-proclaimed top enforcer of Domino High's rules. The older boy held a reputation for his methods of weeding out rule-breakers and bullies, which included more than enough physical violence needed. But he was fair—so as long as he got the money for the fees required for his "service". Not a word was spoken of those who failed in paying them.

For a second, both Honda and Jounouchi only gaped soundlessly at the glowering brute who towered over even them, mouths hanging almost comically open. Swallowing, Jounouchi managed to stutter out, "I—I—uh—I meant—"

"Nothing!" Honda burst out, clamping a hand over the blond's mouth and nose. Said blond nearly choked on his own words, now struggling to breathe from having almost the entire lower half of his face so abruptly blocked from air. Honda ignored him, giving Ushio a wide and very clearly nervous, though not very convincing, smile. "He didn't—_we_ didn't mean anything, we were just talking! Right, Jou?"

"Mmph!" was the most that Jounouchi was able to say audibly.

Ushio continued to glare, his bushy eyebrows drawn tightly together in a way that shot chills down the spine. "I hope you both are aware that any kind of bullying in Domino High will not be tolerated," he said, slowly and deliberately, his voice dripping with venom. "Especially not by _me_."

"Yes, yes, we know, we completely—completely agree," Honda stammered, nodding frantically and pressing his hand more firmly over Jounouchi's mouth while he continued to splutter. "You couldn't be more—more right, you know!"

However, Ushio's gaze never wavered. If anything, he looked even more menacing, as if he was seriously considering whether or not it'd be easier to just punch the two of them out then and there. However, he merely settled for a "hmph" and turned away, stalking back down the hall.

The moment that he disappeared around the corner, Honda finally released Jounouchi, who promptly started massaging his neck as he gasped desperately for air. "Asshole," he wheezed, rubbing his collar bone. "That hurt!"

"Don't make me do it again, then!" Honda retorted. "You know who he is, you shouldn't be shooting your mouth off around him if you've got a brain!"

"I don't care who he is!" Jounouchi turned to shout down the hall, fist raised. "USHIO! YOU BETTER WATCH YOUR BACK, BECAUSE SOMEDAY I'LL BE KICKING IT! YOU—"

"_Shhh_!" Honda hissed. Thankfully, he didn't put his hand over his friend's mouth again, instead opting to roughly grab his arm and yank it down. "He'll hear you!"

"Just my luck if he does," Jounouchi snapped, but there was no real anger left in his voice. For almost a full minute, the two of them only stood there, the silence sinking in now that the frightening upperclassman was gone.

"Now what?" Honda finally broke the silence. He let go of Jounouchi's arm to jam his hands back into his pockets. "Anything left to do before class starts again?"

"Well," Jounouchi began slowly, "how about this?" He slipped a hand back into his pocket, as well, but took it out just as quickly to uncurl his fingers and reveal, on his palm, a single golden piece marked with an eye symbol. Honda's eyes widened.

"How—?" he asked.

Jounouchi's smirk was enough to split his face as he closed his fingers tightly around the fragment, balling them into a fist again. "While I closed that Yugi Mutou's treasure box, I took out this little piece just before I shut the lid! The idiot didn't even notice! Now without this, that stupid puzzle will never be finished."

"Wow." Honda let out a long, low whistle. "Damn, Jounouchi, that's just _slick_."

"Tell me about it. Now..." Jounouchi paused to lift his arm, taking aim. "Nice knowing you!" With that, accompanied by a laugh, he flung the piece out the open window, letting it tumble through the air and land with a splash into the school swimming pool below.

Being so far up and in another building, neither Jounouchi nor Honda could see, as they walked off in laughter, the faint glowing of the puzzle shard as it slowly sank down through the water and to the bottom.

* * *

"See you tomorrow!"

"Let's get going!"

"Come on, hurry up!"

The usual end-of-school-day chatter filled the air as students streamed out into the schoolyard, moving in a crowd that gradually broke off into groups. Being jostled left and right by stray elbows and shoulders, as well as nearly being tripped multiple times by other feet, Yugi was only too glad when he was finally able to break free to head towards the gates.

He kept his pace hurried and brisk, not quite a run but not slow enough to be called a walk. But he was a bit too short—more than he would've liked—for it to be easy to tell. The fact that his multicolored, spiky hair made up almost a third of his height and his eyes, purple in color, were still large in a way that resembled a younger child's didn't help.

"Today's definitely the day," Yugi said to himself, gaining a skip in his step. "Today's the day, and then I can make the wish. Today's the day, and—_oof_!"

He abruptly collided, face-first, into a thrown out hand and stumbled back, blinking stars out of his eyes. When he looked up, he continued to blink, as if not really comprehending the sight.

"Yugi." The word was clipped and gruff, as Ushio retracted his hand and folded his arms across his chest. As he leaned against one of the gates to the schoolyard entrance, his mouth curved into a smile, but it didn't reach his dark eyes. "That's your name, right?"

Yugi only stared, more than a little perplexed. "Um, yes. Yugi Mutou."

"I thought so." If anything, the older boy's smile seemed to widen, which did nothing to put Yugi at ease. "I'm Ushio, hall monitor from the morals committee. I just want to ask you a few questions, if that's okay with you."

"Uh..." Yugi fidgeted with his sleeve, eyes darting anxiously out the gates and back to Ushio. "Sure, go ahead."

"Has anyone in your class been picking on you?" The question was startlingly direct, enough to make Yugi involuntarily wince. He gulped, gaze now flicking to the ground.

"Eh—no," he mumbled. "I mean, no one has, no."

Ushio chuckled. "Really?" He leaned forward, clapping a heavy hand on Yugi's shoulder, and it took a lot of self-restraint for Yugi not to buckle right then and there from the force of the weight. "No need to look so scared! I'm only going to be doing a little investigation, for the sake of the school. From now on, you can call me your personal bodyguard!"

"Wait, w-what?" Yugi jerked back, and Ushio's hand fell away, much to his silent relief. "Um, uh, sorry—thank you, but I don't...I don't really need that. Sorry..."

He trailed off hesitantly at the blank look on Ushio's face, not sure if that was a good thing or not, and swallowed again. "Uh...but thanks anyway. Bye," he added hastily, and turned away, his pace a little faster than before as he made his way out the gates.

_What was that about_? he couldn't help but wonder.

Behind his retreating back, however, Ushio only cracked a menacing grin. It was just as he'd thought: he'd found the ideal client.

Or rather, target.

* * *

The bell attached to the top of the shop's door made its signature ring as Yugi entered. "Grandpa! I'm home!" he called. After a day in class that seemed endless, plus the encounter with Ushio, the familiar sight of the colorful games and knickknacks lining the shelves was more reassuring than he could admit.

Behind the front counter, his grandfather—otherwise known as Sugoroku Mutou—looked up and smiled over a pile of boxes. "Welcome back! How was school?"

"Oh, it was okay," Yugi replied neutrally, pushing the door closed behind him. Well, he wasn't lying, but then, he'd had worse days—none that his grandpa needed to know about, anyway. "Did the new board games come in today?"

"Not yet, but we did get some other deliveries." Sugoroku stooped to tuck another flat package into a bottom shelf as he spoke, the top of his bandanna-adorned head being the only visible part of him from over the counter. "Is Anzu coming over? I haven't seen her in a while."

"Yep!" Yugi practically bounced his way through the shop, sneakers squeaking across the newly mopped floor as he headed for the stairs. "She'd said she'd be here the day after tomorrow, but didn't say what time. I think she meant around dinner."

"That's good. I hope she likes sukiyaki," Sugoroku commented absently, shifting through the pile.

"And I think today could be the day I finish the puzzle!" Yugi went on, his voice gaining a much more enthusiastic note. "I've got some of it completed already, there's only some more pieces to go."

"Really?" He heard a shifting movement, then a loud _thud_ followed by a muffled "ouch!", before his grandpa finally straightened up, rubbing the back of his head and looking slightly pained. It did nothing to diminish the smile on his face, however. "Wonderful! How far have you gotten?"

"About..." Yugi trailed off mid-sentence to sling his backpack off of his shoulder and onto the counter, shuffling through it before coming up with the box. Sugoroku looked on as he pulled the lid off to reveal the puzzle seemingly in its entirety, roughly a third of it pieced together. "...this far! See?"

At the sight, Sugoroku could only beam in admiration. "Truly a feat," he answered. "But, I shouldn't be surprised! It does take a true intellectual to put together the Millennium Puzzle."

Yugi raised an eyebrow, though he was smiling. "Are you saying those archaeologists you said took this weren't intellectual enough?" he asked, though his tone was slightly teasing. His grandfather laughed.

"Of course you'd remember that," Sugoroku managed, as his chuckles ceased. "I'm not sure why I told you about that—the Puzzle, found in the early twentieth century, taken by an English archaeologist team from a Pharaoh's burial tomb! And everyone in that team mysteriously dying afterwards..."

"I'm pretty sure you just wanted to scare me back then, Grandpa," Yugi replied, tone a little dry. He'd only been eight at the time, when his grandfather had first shown him the gold box on his desk and told him the ominous tale. It didn't affect him much now, but back then, he'd been nothing short of both fascinated and terrified. The nearly finished puzzle was proof now of which emotion had won out in the end. "Didn't you say the last one was...screaming? Something about a game?"

"Oh, yes, the Shadow Game." Now Sugoroku's voice took on a mock-sinister tone, as if he was telling a campfire horror story. All that was needed to complete the image was a flashlight shining into his face. "Some say he was wandering around a village for days when he was found, shouting about it, to beware its _power_. Only the one who solves the puzzle can wield it—as that says."

He pointed one gnarled finger to the side of the gold box, which was inscribed with several lines of hieroglyphs. Yugi studied them for a moment, tracing a finger through the silhouette of one shaped like a bird. He never took much notice of them before, but he knew what they said, thanks to his grandfather, and he read them aloud. "_To the one who controls me_..."

"..._I shall give the wisdom and strength of the shadows_," Sugoroku finished for him.

Yugi examined the puzzle box's markings, violet eyes shining with curiosity. "...Do you really believe that, Grandpa?" he finally asked, breaking off his gaze to meet his grandfather's. "This means my wish would really come true, wouldn't it?"

"I'm sure whatever wish you make wouldn't be too much for it to grant," Sugoroku said warmly. He stole a glance at the clock on the shop wall. "Say...shouldn't you be getting started on your homework right now? And maybe your puzzle, too, for later?" he asked, a teasing note to his voice.

"Oh, Grandpa," Yugi groused, though there was no true annoyance to his tone. He shut the lid back on over the box, holding it in one hand while he picked up his schoolbag with the other. "You know me, I'm a responsible student!"

"I'm not saying you aren't," Sugoroku answered, grinning. "But I don't think your mother would be too happy if she came home from work right now and saw you talking about your puzzle with me after school instead of working on your grades, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." Yugi waved one hand with the box still grasped in it airily, brushing off the small pang at the reminder of his mother with a smile as he began to make his way up the stairs to his room. "I still passed my tests last year, though, so she can't say I'm a bad student!" he called from over his shoulder.

Sugoroku only smiled to himself, shaking his head affectionately as he returned to the shelves. If he were still the gambling type, he'd bet his grandson would spend more time with one thing in his hand over the other, and it wasn't the books in the backpack.

* * *

The clock slowly ticked on its way to midnight, the only light in the darkness coming from the lamp illuminating the plain bedroom. At the desk before the room's window sat Yugi, clad in faded blue pajamas, oblivious to everything around him except the jagged shards of shining gold slowly being pieced together, bit by bit, in his fingers. A steady _click_-_click_ hung in the air throughout, a rhythm to the movements of his hands as they twisted and turned the numerous fragments, trying to find angles where they would fit together and make a whole.

Sometimes, he succeeded, and every now and then he heard the satisfying _snap_ of a piece sliding into place. Most of the time, however, there was only that clicking that filled his ears and filtered through his head like a never-ending hum, as he tried futilely to put certain remnants in certain places and figure out where they did fit, if not in that one spot.

He supposed he should have been glad he had made any more progress at all, as he'd now completed another third and there was only one portion more until it would be complete. He thought he could make out more of what shape it would take: there were now two angular sides with a point on each end, arranged together to resemble some kind of unfinished pyramid.

Pyramid. That sounded oddly fitting, given where this thing came from. Ruins in ancient Egypt, the tomb of a Pharaoh. His mind vaguely wondered at that last part, his imagination running away into visions of imagery from old Hollywood movies he'd watched with his grandfather and Anzu several times—pyramids labored on by workers beneath a scorching desert sun, Pharaohs with elaborate headdresses and curled false beards, Queens with kohl-painted eyes and sheer white gowns flashing with jewels, bandage-wrapped mummies climbing out of unlocked tombs to wreck vengeance and curses from the undead. Yugi shook the images off, however, pulling his attention back to focus. He couldn't afford to be distracted, not now when he was closer to finishing this puzzle than he had in eight years. The completion was so close he could almost taste it.

"Where does this one go?" he asked himself, squinting slightly at one piece in particular. It was shaped like an English _L_ letter, with more pointed edges, and no matter where he put it, it simply refused to join with any parts. Stubborn thing. He let out an enormous yawn, his eyelids drooping, and it took a bit more effort than normal to force his eyes open once his mouth had closed.

But it wasn't long before his eyes closed yet again while he was studying two other pieces in his hands, and this time, he didn't feel quite as much of an inclination as before to open them. He slumped forward, the shards falling away to roll across the surface, as his head hit the desk and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The morning after had not been a very clear one, Yugi knew that much. When he'd come to, he'd found himself hunched over his desk, the puzzle still sitting unsolved at his hands, and the clock on the wall only ten minutes away from striking the time school would start. His mind had gone completely into overdrive and, with a speed he hadn't known he was capable of, he'd thrown the puzzle and the pieces he'd dropped back into its box before slamming it shut and throwing it into his schoolbag, closing up said schoolbag, and ripping off his pajamas to yank on his school uniform. He hadn't even stopped to brush his teeth or get breakfast, too busy hurrying down the stairs with a hasty goodbye to his surprised grandfather as he'd flung himself out the shop door and into the street to school. All of that came in a blur to him now, as if more from a dream than reality.

He let out another enormous yawn as he slid into his classroom seat, pressing his hand over his mouth as he did. "I should really go to bed more early," he mumbled to himself. "Staying up so late working on the puzzle...that has to be the fourth time this week."

Blinking sluggishly, he didn't take notice of approaching footsteps outside the classroom until a voice rudely interrupted his thoughts. "Hey! Yugi!"

He jumped, nearly tumbling out of his chair and swiveling his head wildly around until he saw who it was, standing by the door. He stared in surprise.

_Ushio_. What was he doing here? Had he really been serious when he'd said he'd be Yugi's bodyguard? Now he looked oddly smug with himself, mouth drawn into a wide smirk that did nothing to quell the sudden chill racing up Yugi's spine. Something about that expression didn't seem right to him, as if it was happiness for all the wrong reasons.

But he didn't look threatening, not really. He appeared almost friendly, his posture clearly much more relaxed than it had been yesterday, with his hands now in his pockets instead of tucked in over his arms tightly across his chest. Yugi found the change a little unnerving.

"Could you come with me for a minute?" he asked. "I need to show you something."

* * *

Yugi wasn't sure how long they'd been walking, but he knew it definitely had to have been more than a minute. The bell hadn't rung, yet the crowds of students in the halls and schoolyard had noticeably thinned out, as more people began heading into their classrooms rather than stopping to linger outside. He felt a little anxious, half-running to catch up with Ushio's long stride as they reached the back of the school building.

"Um, Ushio," he started tentatively. "Where are we going? What do you need to show me?"

He couldn't see the upperclassman's expression, given that his back was to him, but he could imagine the smirk on his face himself when Ushio spoke. "Just something I think you'd like to see," he replied, a snicker in his voice that only increased Yugi's growing sense of unease. "Nothing much."

The rest of the walk lapsed into an awkward silence, during which Yugi tried to come up with something to say, if only to ease it. But what would he say? He knew nothing about Ushio other than his infamy as a hunter of rule-breakers, and hadn't spoken a word to him prior to the day before. In fact, he wondered, what did Ushio even want with him? Yugi Mutou was nothing special, neither a perfect student nor a resident troublemaker. He was simply there, just another student who kept his head low and avoided the spotlight of things when he could help it. And he was fine with that, really. He'd always depended on Anzu as the outgoing one of them, and he didn't see how or why that would change.

He considered just stopping and politely telling Ushio that whatever he wanted to show him, he could show him after school, because he really had to get to class right now. However, he shoved the thought away before it was even fully formed. How would he say _that_? The mere idea of telling that to someone with such a fearsome reputation and an aura that didn't do much to put Yugi at ease made his knees feel weak from fear.

But whether or not he'd have said it, he wouldn't know. Because it was then that they turned a corner, and the sight that lay there was enough to freeze over the blood in Yugi's veins and send his heart plummeting.

For several long, agonizing moments, he could only stare, his mouth parting in disbelief. He heard Ushio's smug voice, proclaiming "Hey, look!" as he gestured to it, but he registered the words as if they were coming from above underwater. All he could really hear was the blood roaring in his ears as shock kept him paralyzed to the spot and his feet stuck to the ground.

Jounouchi and Honda were collapsed against the wall, slumped over as if they could no longer even support their own weight, like marionettes with their strings cut. Both of them bore the unmistakable signs of a severe beating: numerous cuts and huge bruises marred their faces, a particularly ugly one staining Jounouchi's cheek and extending to his jaw, while Honda's nose was dripping blood onto his shirt. Several of their arms and legs were sprawled out at odd angles, as if they had been twisted to the point of nearly being broken. Although Jounouchi looked adamant, as if trying to stifle the pain down in favor of looking completely stoic, Honda was faintly groaning in pain, mouth hanging slightly open. "Ughh..."

Somehow, that sound alone was enough as a trigger to snap Yugi back into the present. His voice came out almost an octave higher with panic, squeaking on several notes. "Jounouchi! Honda!" he gasped. "What—what _happened_? Who did this?!"

He heard Ushio's deep chuckle before he'd even finished talking. "Don't you remember what I told you, Yugi?" he questioned. "Like I said! You can call me your personal bodyguard. And as your bodyguard, it's my job to punish these two. They're only bullying trash."

Yugi gaped at him. "But—but—!" he choked out. "No! This isn't—this isn't right! It's cruel, Ushio, too cruel!"

Without giving a second thought to what he was doing, he rushed over, dropping to his knees next to Jounouchi. It took more than a bit of self-restraint for him not to gasp again. If the wounds looked bad at first sight, they only looked even worse up close, severe enough to demand at least a foot's worth of bandages. For that second, seeing his tormentors in such a state, he couldn't feel anything near satisfaction at their pain, only pity. No one, no matter what they'd done to him, deserved this. "J-Jounouchi," he stuttered. "Are...are you okay?"

He realized that was a stupid question the moment it escaped his mouth, and he was overcome by the urge to mentally slap himself. Of course Jounouchi wasn't okay, the cuts and bruises on his face were proof of that! But Jounouchi, looking up at him with slightly glazed-over eyes, didn't seem to have registered anything from him, let alone his question. "So it was you behind this, huh?" he muttered, spitting out blood as he spoke, and Yugi instinctively recoiled. "Should've known..."

"I—what?" Yugi stared at him, his expression blank in both shock and horror. "No, I never—! I didn't ask for this!" His voice shook. "Why would I—why would I ever ask this to happen? I-I'd never—"

"Move it, Yugi!" Ushio snapped, and Yugi involuntarily squeaked as he was abruptly shoved aside, landing hard onto the asphalt as the taller boy took several menacing steps towards the two. "I have to finish. They're not done learning their lesson yet!"

To punctuate his words, his foot swung and slammed squarely into Jounouchi's chest, the impact enough to crush him back against the wall. With a groan, Jounouchi doubled over, slumping sideways before the hall monitor kicked out again, this time landing several hits against his lower back.

Although still disoriented with the wind knocked out of him from the fall, Yugi didn't pause to catch his breath when he saw what was going on. He'd seen enough. "_Stop_!" he shouted. In one fluid movement, he sprang and threw himself in front of the two, arms spread. He stumbled slightly, struggling to catch his breath, but his voice was loud and clear, his eyes wide and pleading. "Please—please, just _stop_ _it_! Leave them alone!"

Ushio's thick eyebrows narrowed together. "So you're standing up for them now?" he growled. "I'm surprised, Yugi. They bully you, but you're protecting them. Why don't you just get your revenge?"

"Friends don't do that to each other!" Yugi burst out. He panted, chest starting to heave and legs trembling, but he stared at Ushio defiantly. Unbeknownst to him, behind his back, Jounouchi's eyes had widened at his words before slowly starting to soften, just a little. Shock seemed to be giving more way to gratitude, something that surprised even Jounouchi himself.

For a second, Ushio only stared, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a loud guffaw. "Your _friends_? It's too bad I didn't know that earlier," he sneered, sarcasm dripping off of his voice. "But no matter. I'll take my payment now anyway! The fee for my service is 200,000 yen. No more, and no less!"

The sound of the price alone was enough to stun Yugi to the spot, gaping in horror and disbelief. He was only vaguely aware of the thin line of cold sweat trickling down the side of his face as his voice came out hoarsely, almost cracking in the middle. "_What_? 200,000 yen?! I can't—that's—that's too much!"

"Oh, is it?" Ushio's voice now reached a lower pitch, verging on one that screamed of danger. "Sorry, Yugi. But that's just the way it is."

His arm shot out, grabbing the other boy's collar and yanking him forward so violently that Yugi's head snapped forward, leaving him dazed and cowering under the weight of Ushio's glare. His throat felt constricted, almost strangled, by the sheer force of the hall monitor's grip that left him hanging in the air with his feet dangling. "I'll be nice, though," Ushio continued in a snarl, practically spitting in disgust. Yugi had just enough strength in his grasp to turn his face away to avoid the small spray from his mouth. "I'll just give you a reminder about what'll happen if you don't get me my payment tomorrow. Only a little _warning_."

To illustrate his words, he flung his fist back and rammed it squarely into Yugi's jaw, sending him to the ground. He'd barely landed, skidding clumsily across the asphalt, when Ushio followed it up with a knee to his stomach, flattening him onto his back. Yugi only had time to gasp and grunt, biting down on his lip to keep from whimpering or, heaven forbid, crying as the upperclassman relentlessly began kicking at any part of him he could reach, again and again, the pointed toe of his booted foot relentlessly digging into his skin through his shirt every time. By the time the beating had ceased, which seemed to have lasted for more than an eternity, Yugí's chest and stomach felt so numb that he couldn't even groan out anymore.

He could only lay there, shaking and coughing hard, having just enough energy to massage the area over his aching ribs with one slightly scraped hand while Ushio regarded him from above with a broad sneer. "That's only for now," he said coolly. "There'll be more of it unless you pay up tomorrow."

As if for further emphasis, he snatched hold of Yugi's collar to drag him forward so that they were face-to-face again, with Yugi only half-hanging off the ground on his knees. Ushio took out a knife, thick-handled with a frightfully sharp and curved blade, and held it up under the younger teen's chin, enough so that Yugi could feel the tip graze threateningly against his skin. His voice was a growl. "Remember, Yugi. 200,000 yen. Don't forget if you like your face the way it is."

With that, he let go, and Yugi dropped completely onto the asphalt, crumpling into a dazed heap. Ushio's laughter echoed through his ears as his departing footsteps slowly faded away, leaving behind room in his clouded mind for only one helpless thought:

_What am I going to do_?

* * *

_1,652_..._1,653_..._1,654_...

"This isn't enough!" Yugi groaned, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. He must have spent at least two hours counting out all the bills and coins he'd been able to scrounge from places such as his monthly allowance, the earnings he'd never gotten around to using from that one job he'd taken with Anzu last summer, a birthday gift from his father on one of his rare visits home, and a spot under his bed that'd been gathering dust. But even with those put altogether, he wouldn't be able to pay Ushio his requested fee tomorrow. And if he couldn't pay...

Yugi fought back a cold shudder, wincing as the dull throbbing from his bruises returned. Thankfully, he'd been able to cover up the one on his face from Ushio's punch with a bandage and the rest under his clothes, so it'd only taken the excuse of having fallen down some stairs to convince Anzu and his grandfather when they'd asked him about it. He doubted either of them had fully bought into it, though—neither of them were stupid, and Yugi wasn't a very good liar, mostly due to his dislike of lying to anyone, especially them.

But then, that probably only applied to the verbal part, at least. He was much better at pretending than flat-out lying.

He exhaled, pushing back the assorted yen on his desk. Without really paying attention to what he was doing, his mind lost on the speculations of just where he could get any kind of money before tomorrow, his fingers reached instinctively for the puzzle, lying on one side out of the box, and began to fumble with the pieces. It was only when the familiar snap of fragments clicking together into place sounded out that Yugi realized exactly what he was doing.

"Ah!" He made a noise in the back of his throat, immediately putting the thing back down and shoving it away, wrinkling up a bill into a wad as he did. "What am I _doing_? I don't have time to work on this right now!"

But even as he spoke, he knew he was lying to himself. He always had time to work on the puzzle, eight years of trying to solve it having grown into a habit for him as usual as breathing, whether it was at school or at home or otherwise. And as if they had a mind of their own, far beyond his, his fingers came back to grasp the shining cold pieces, rotating them and moving them with each other repeatedly in a memorized rhythm. _Click_, _click_. _Snap_, _snap_.

_Click_, _click_. _Snap_, _snap_. Somehow, the noise was soothing to Yugi's ears now, a welcome distraction from his stressful predicament. But strangely, if anything, it was easier now to find the places where the pieces fit when they'd alluded him before. He knew that if he half-rotated this particular fragment, it would make a perfect shape with this one, and if he put that one there, and this one here, and oh, that one there, too...

"Yes!" Yugi whispered, the word escaping him unthinkingly as the top point snapped into place. He gazed at it reverently, running his hand over the smooth, cool surface, until he moved back slightly to admire the puzzle in full and, with an abrupt chill, realized something.

He'd done it. The puzzle was a pyramid, complete except for the one hole in the center, shaped exactly like the piece with the eye.

"I..." Yugi licked his lips, his mouth now dry as sand. He could only stare at it as if spellbound, trapped in fascination and amazement by the mere sight. "I...I did it."

The words rolled around his head, reverberating in his mind until they sank in at last. Slowly, a smile grew to light up his face. "I did it! _I did it_!" he repeated, louder now, his voice rising with joy. "Just one more piece and it'll be finished!"

He reached eagerly into the box, heart practically singing. Solving the puzzle today—now _that_ truly made up for how badly the day had gone. But his fingers, roaming through the interior in expectancy of coming into contact with icy gold as usual, found nothing but air. Yugi frowned, looking inside.

Yugi then swore that his heart nearly stopped. The box was, for the first time as long as he'd remembered, was completely empty.

"No..." he choked out numbly. Then his voice rose, reaching an almost hysterical pitch. "No! It isn't here! The last piece—it's gone! _Gone_! How—!?"

Immediately, he moved to crawl over the desk's surface, tossing books and papers over his shoulder in search of spots he could have dropped it. When nothing came up, he went to the floor, searching frantically on hands and knees. He threw open all dresser drawers, dug through the back of his closet, shoved his way under his bed and rummaged through numerous forgotten fuzzy slippers and dust balls. But no matter where he looked, he found nothing except what was already there.

"It isn't here," he repeated brokenly as he finally slumped down to sit back in his chair, cradling the puzzle in his hands. He stared down at it, that sense of sweet elation now feeling only like a joke with that empty space in its middle. It seemed to mock him, empty and unfilled. Inexplicably, tears stung at the corners of his eyes, continuing even after he reached up and halfheartedly wiped at them.

"Now it'll never be finished," he whispered to himself. He felt so crushed, so devastated he couldn't think properly. Eight years, _eight years_ of working to solve this one puzzle, and all that hard work, wasted because he'd lost one measly piece when he'd come so close to completing it at last. Just _one piece_, but it had to be the most important one, the one linking all the others together with its eye.

It'd never be finished, and his wish would never come true.

His wish. Yugi bit his lip as he placed the puzzle on the desk, pushing it away. Had it been stupid of him to really hope, deep in his heart, that this puzzle would truly grant him his wish? The secret he'd harbored, even from his grandfather, even Anzu. His wish for friends. Friends who would be by his side, who would never betray him, and he would never betray them. That was all he truly wanted. Surely it wouldn't have been too much to ask of the puzzle.

But it was now, with its most integral part gone.

He was so numb, so lost in his own internal sea of misery and frustration with himself as he stared at his desk's surface without really seeing it, that he didn't hear the sound of the door opening and footsteps behind him until his grandfather's voice reached his ears. But then, Yugi felt too listless to jump from surprise. "Ah...so I see you've finished the puzzle!" Sugoroku picked it up, turning it over in his hands as a grin split his face.

Yugi winced, but didn't look up. He couldn't bring himself to. "No..." he mumbled, eyes still fixed on his desk. "No, I couldn't. I'm sorry, Grandpa, but...I failed...I couldn't finish it, after all."

"Hm?" In response, Sugoroku flipped the puzzle onto one side onto his palm, exposing the hole at the center to full view. He furrowed his brow slightly, frowning. So that was it. "Ah..."

He turned back to his despondent grandson, who was now avoiding his gaze as if afraid to see disappointment in his eyes. However, there was only understanding, as Sugoroku knew that expression of dejection all too well from personal experience. He'd lived too many years of ups and downs not to, after all. He placed one weathered finger on Yugi's shoulder, shaking his head slightly. Startled, Yugi looked up.

In that second, Yugi faltered, struggling for what to say. But his grandfather, thankfully, did it for him. "Yugi, this isn't just any puzzle," he said gently. "It's the Millennium Puzzle! The one you've worked so hard on for eight years, putting in all your love and hope and your dreams. You never gave up on it before...so why should just one missing piece get you down now?"

Yugi opened his mouth to protest, but Sugoroku cut him off. "It's true, and you know it," he continued firmly, removing his finger from Yugi's shoulder to curl back into a fist. "You need to have more _faith_ in yourself about this! Trust me when I say that if you don't give up now, if you keep moving forward, then your wish will still come true."

At that, Yugi managed a small smile, but the effect was marred somewhat by the tears he was fighting back. "Thanks, Grandpa," he replied shakily. "I appreciate it. But...how can you be so sure?"

Sugoroku's responding grin was wide enough to split his wrinkled face, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "Because this is here," he answered cheerfully. And he uncurled his fist, revealing the centerpiece with the eye on his palm.

Time, at first, seemed to be frozen, with Yugi only able to gawk at the sight. A strangled noise worked its way out of his throat, turning into one single, disbelieving word. "Grandpa...how...?"

But before Sugoroku could say anything in return, the tears Yugi had been holding back came out and he hurled himself forward, throwing his arms around his grandfather's neck and crashing against his chest. Sugoroku stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet in surprise, but Yugi hardly took notice, too busy half-sobbing, half-laughing hysterically into his neck. "Oh, _thank you_!" he choked out. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou! You found it! _You found it_! You're the best, Grandpa, you're the—the—"

And then he dissolved into incomprehensible blubbering again, too overwhelmed by relief and gratitude to properly speak.

"Whoa, whoa there!" Once he'd gotten over the shock of having been barreled into, Sugoroku could only chuckle lightly as he reached down to pat his grandson's back. "Easy. You're welcome, Yugi. But to tell you the truth, it wasn't me who found it."

"—Huh?" Yugi stopped in the middle of his babbling to glance up, confused. He wiped his eyes dry with the back of his hand, now a little embarrassed at his crying. "What do you mean?"

Sugoroku smiled down at him. "Just a few hours ago, someone came by the shop with this," he replied, holding out the piece again. Yugi took it, handling it almost reverently. "He said he was a friend of yours, and asked me to give it to you. He looked a little funny—soaked all over, probably from the rain."

"Oh..." Yugi breathed, though he was really only half-listening, and thus didn't hear the small shifting noise as his grandfather discreetly slid something into his backpack—an envelope of yen to pay the bully he'd been told about from the piece's giver, knowing the school board would turn a blind eye to it as always if reported. His eyes were fixed almost entirely on the precious final part of the Puzzle now in his hands, gleaming with that eye symbol at its heart. He wondered, briefly, who it could have been, but immediately discarded the thought as soon as it had formed. It didn't matter, not now. What mattered was that the last piece wasn't gone, after all. _Whoever you are, though_..._thank you_.

"Well," Sugoroku began, breaking Yugi out of his temporary reverie. He looked back and forth between him and the clock on the wall, scratching the back of his head. "I think it's about time we both head off to bed. Good night, Yugi."

"Good night, Grandpa," Yugi responded, returning his smile as he left, the door closing behind him. "Thanks again!"

As he pulled the door shut quietly behind him, Sugoroku allowed himself a small smile as he padded off to his own room, hands folded behind his back. Just as he'd thought, his grandson really was a clever one, enough to be able to do what so many others had failed in. Perhaps he really would be the heir of the Shadow Games, to pass judgement over evil as predicted on the box. He knew from personal experience that such games weren't mere myths, after all.

Without any further prompting, he turned back to the Puzzle once more and held up the centerpiece over it, now steeling himself for the moment he'd awaited so long. He gulped, fingers starting to shake as he slowly rotated the little centerpiece in the light from his lamp, just inches above its gap in the Puzzle. It flashed a brilliant white.

"This is it," Yugi whispered to himself. He brought the piece closer, closer to the hole until it was hovering above it by just half an inch. His hand was trembling so badly it was a miracle he didn't drop it then. "The Millennium Puzzle...it'll finally be completed."

He let the last word hang in the air, as the world and time itself seemed to freeze around him. It felt, now, as if there was nothing that mattered left except him and this one part for this one Puzzle. Breath held in his throat, heart pulsing far more wildly than it should have, he slowly slid the piece into the puzzle's center.

_Click_.

That one noise was small and light, and for one agonizingly long moment, nothing happened.

But he only had time to register the mental question why, this time, it had been a click and not a snap as it had been with the rest, before the eye on the piece lit up with a glow, bursting into blinding light that seemed to be coming from the heart of the puzzle itself. The light then just as quickly gave way to darkness, plunging everything into it until Yugi Mutou, sixteen-year-old Domino High School student, knew no more.

* * *

**Author's Notes**:

So this is my first attempt at a gender-change/Rule 63 fic. In this case, Yami is the one gender-changed. The plot will mostly follow the canon storyline, starting from the beginning of the manga, to explore the differences that would've come into effect had Yami been female (and _only_ Yami).

Feedback on this idea and how well I'm doing with it is greatly appreciated, so please drop a review and let me know if you want to see more or not.


	2. The Spirit Emerges

**Author's Notes:**

Wow, over forty views on the first chapter alone. But three favorites and only one review? Come on. Please let me know what you like so far and what you'd like to see, I'm perfectly open to suggestions and critique for improvement. Feedback is food for the writer's soul.

To Lunagale (since you reviewed anonymously and I can't message you, I'll make the reply open), thank you. For the most part, this will stick closely to the manga in the beginning, with elements of the season zero anime. It'll introduce elements from the DM anime as well from Duelist Kingdom and onward. But yes, fem!Atem will appear in this chapter, though her true name won't be Atem when it's revealed (considering that Atem is derived from Atum, a male Egyptian deity).

Speaking of names, in this story, Yami will not actually be called Yami at any point, since that's mostly a fan nickname for convenience and used as a name only in the dub. Just a heads-up.

* * *

How long had she been here?

The darkness had been cold and endless, stifling. A prison, constantly keeping her adrift and vaguely aware where she was, but with no grasp on who she was, what this place was, why she was there.

Something told her, like a faint whisper not quite fully lost to the shadows, that she had been in here far longer than it seemed to her. How long she thought it had been, however, she didn't know. There was no way of measuring the minute by the minute, the hour, the day, the week and the month and the year. It felt endless, beyond time itself.

How she even knew what time was alluded her, as did almost everything else. It was one of the few things that stayed with her throughout, never slipping away when she reached out for it as if clung to her core. But, then again, she had no hands to reach out for anything, no core of her being—no real physical form or sense of touch. The darkness seemed to have taken it all away and absorbed her into it until she was a shadow herself, flickering like a sputtering flame, with only some form of consciousness to hold on to and call her own.

If she could have shivered, she would have. Because it was cold in these shadows, she knew that much, and _why was it so cold_? She had no idea how she could tell it was cold at all, that it lacked warmth—something she had never even experienced other than in little wisps of recollection that disappeared when she tried to hold on to them—but she did not dwell on it. She could not dwell on it, not when that would lead to more futile attempts at trying to remember why she was here.

It would only torture her further, if she tried, and she had so many times before she could no longer count them. Occasionally, once in an eternity, she would pick up on something distinct from the darkness—a flash of bright color, a brush of something soft, distant voices. A gleam of pure and shining gold. But they always vanished as quickly as they came, receding into the depths of wherever they had formed from and lost to what scattered, spread thin remnants of a mind she had.

She asked aloud, again and again, her questions steadily growing more varied and more desperate and broken, too deep in the darkness for her to hear herself. _Who am I_? _Where am I_? _Why am I here_? _How long have I been here_? Of course, there would be no answer. Why would there be? There was no one here but her, as far as she knew. But then, why was she alone? Did no one know she was here? Was there even anyone beyond here? Where had she gotten the idea there was anyone else with a mind and a consciousness and a voice, when she had known nothing but this vacant, eternal darkness that never had an answer for her?

Sometimes, though, she thought the darkness spoke to her now and again. To taunt her, mock her. The shadows would split, in twos and threes, little strands and pieces that would curl around each other to hiss into her consciousness. They sounded distorted and weak, as if she was hearing them from a distance, but their words were sharp and rolled around her mind in maddeningly repeating echoes.

_Poor little girl_, they would sing, high and grating like metal on rock, a distortion of how she imagined her own voice would sound if she had one to hear. _Little girl_._ Little girl_._ Poor, weak little girl_._ Such a sweet, good girl_._ Such a foolish, weak girl_.

That was what she was. A girl. Even though it was aimed as if to sting and demean, it was all that they called her, at least before she thrust them forcibly away and they immediately ceased as a result, and therefore all she had for herself. She was a girl, though what that exactly _was_, she didn't know.

But even that one scrap she could cling to carried a doubt that never stopped prickling at her. How could she know she was a girl? Were the shadows truthful, or were they only tormenting her and knew no more than she did about herself? How did they even know? Every time she asked this, they remained suspiciously silent. So she would return to her state of simply being, laid out in pieces, until they came back to use the word on her again and she had to chase them away once more.

Of course, she could do nothing but merely push them from her until they would inevitably return. She was a prisoner here, left at their mercy, and thinking about it only stirred a foreign sensation, something vaguely familiar that she was sure was called anger. _Anger_ that she was so helpless and weak, that came with the faint, unexplained sense that if she was not here, if she could leave here, then she would be far more powerful than she could imagine in her current state. She could silence these shadows for good herself and utilize them like weapons at her own command.

If only...if _only_...

She longed for a way out. She looked for it countless times, and all her attempts met no success. The most she could feel, other than those passing, brief bursts of emotion she could barely name, was a hunger. Ravenous and craving, desperate for something—_anything_—other than the blackness that kept her formless and helpless in its grasp.

Light. She wanted light. She didn't know what it was, she didn't know if she'd ever seen it before, but _light_, warmth, a voice other than hers that did not mock her from cold darkness—she craved it, she _needed _it like a man would thirst for water in a scorching desert. She couldn't define the feeling for it herself, she only knew it was there and so she hung on to it.

Oh, and she was _rambling _again, now, wasn't she? Rambling things no one, not even she, could hear. Words that weren't fully formed and came out in some strange string of letters that was always falling apart and never being spoken in any discernible language. She had no mouth to speak with anyway, she had nothing, _she_ was nothing, so how was she even speaking? How did she even know what she was saying?

But then, how were the shadows taunting her if they had no mouths to speak with, either?

They all spoke as one and they all sounded cruel and cold and everything she knew she must have despised even in whatever life she may have had before this prison. They spoke to her and she spoke back and then they would leave, and just when she was starting to fade back into their clutches, they would start again. They alternated between pushing her away and accepting her in, back and forth in a perpetual cycle that she was sure she would never end and oh, why wouldn't they stop, why couldn't they just _stop_, please, _please_—

Yet they never stopped, they were relentless in their torture, their amusement at her as if she were a broken toy far past its prime. They _laughed_. They took pleasure in her pain and she didn't know why, she would ask why, what had she done to deserve any of this?

Like everything else, she was given no answer.

And she had grown so used to it, now, beyond anything resembling apathy. She was a part of them and they still hissed at her, whispered words that repeated until she forced them away, flickering and shifting.

Until she saw it—a spark, small and white and sputtering before her. It was so tiny she would not have noticed it if not for its color, something bright in the darkness. The shadows hated it, they retreated with angry spitting and snarling, curling away until only she was left to take in the emanating warmth of what she'd waited for...she didn't know how long.

She half-expected it to fade into obscurity like the other flashes of color that had passed by before. But it remained, it _stayed_, continuing to float even as she reached out for it. If anything, it only expanded, bit by bit, until she heard it. A distinct noise that she was quite sure had not come from any of the shadows.

_Click_.

And with that one, small sound, the light burst into a blinding tide, enveloping her in its grasp.

* * *

The warmth was all too brief, fading quickly away before she had gotten over her sense of shock enough to savor it. But when it was gone, she was not in the darkness again as she had expected to be.

She was sitting on some smooth surface, her feet on a firm ground. No—not only that. She smelled musk and dry air, there were vibrant colors of assorted hues and shades everywhere with no hint of the shadows in sight, she could feel the rush of blood through veins—she had a _form_. A body.

_A body_!

New sensations overwhelmed her, nearly crushing in their force. The smallest brush of hair over her brow when she shifted, the fabric that lay against her skin, the prod of her tongue against her teeth, something clutched in her fingers. She felt herself shaking, parting her lips to take in a breath of the air—so _clear_, so warm and welcoming in her new chest, gulping it down as if it were the elixir of life. But, in a way, it was.

She felt the creak in her neck as she shifted her head, and it really felt strange, too, seeing something before her that was not a murky and dim shadow. It was stranger to look at it and know for certain that it was _hers_—in this case, her hands.

They were pale, almost like the spark of light that'd saved her, in a lack of color that fascinated her. Currently, they were curled around something held out before her on top of a desk. She could only stare it in some strange fascination, too absorbed in it to question, for instance, how she knew what all these parts of her were without a second thought, or why her now comprehensible, whole thoughts were coming together in some language she never recalled having known before—but then again, she didn't recall exactly what language she _had_ known to form her words.

It was a pure gold pyramid, glittering out of the dimness between her fingers. An eye at its center emitted a harsh glow, as if the sun's disc had been condensed into the pyramid's heart and now shone out through the numerous cracks piecing it together. When her fingertips shifted over the top, they dug into the ridges running through in crooked patterns and thin lines, forming breaks in an otherwise perfect whole.

Somehow, she could feel the warmth seeping from the pyramid and into her hands, reaching through her until the light slowly began to recede from its cracks. Bit by bit, the pyramid began to feel heavier and colder in her fingers, and bit by bit, the same warmth built slowly around her in an increasing pressure, on her forehead and shoulders and around her until it morphed into a familiar darkness. But this darkness felt different at the same time—softer, gentler. It was easier to understand, it moved only at her will—she had nothing to fear from it, not anymore.

But as to whether others had nothing to fear from it as well...that was a different story.

Abruptly, she stood up, the pyramid still cradled in her hands and the warmth and the pressure on her head and around her heightening. As if the motion alone was a trigger, images flashed through her thoughts, coming as memories—were these the ones she'd missed in the shadows?—that were bright and vivid and awakened new sensations. They were sensations of foreign things, emotions she had never fully tasted until now and nearly snapped something in her mind at their force.

Anger. Fear. Out of all the responses to the memories flooding in waves around her, they were the most prominent, the sharpest and strongest. She set her teeth in a snarl, barely taking notice as her grip tightened on the pyramid to the point that her fingernails dug hard enough to break into its cracks and the pressure of the darkness grew so crushing it was becoming difficult to keep her breaths even. They came in hard shreds, caught in her throat as she finally pushed the moving images away. Her thoughts had returned to their previous state in the shadows, now scattered and haphazard, all working over each other with only one clear word between them:

_Ushio_. The name alone sounded sickening, even if only spoken mentally. Fury and hatred in its purest form sprang at the word, bitter in her mouth as she replayed what came along with it—uncertainty, shock, _anger_ and _fear_, panic and worry and pain that was not as long as that from the shadows, but strong enough to leave an ugly mark.

Yes, that was enough reason for what had to be done. He had proven himself to be in dire need of something that would help him, and she would take it upon herself to give him that. It was only fitting.

She moved almost mechanically, her mind now whole in its decided intent and knowledge of what she had to do. Carefully, she stepped over the little contraptions and objects scattered across the floor, taking great care not even to brush her foot against any of them. The place she was in was dark, but not completely so like the realm of shadows had been, making her task easy. But she began to wonder, looking around, just what had exactly happened. What had been that light? How had it brought her here? How had it given her this body? Now that she thought about it without the fascination of having one distracting her, being in this form—as nice as it was, especially in comparison to being a shattered shadow—felt distinctly _odd_ for some reason she couldn't name. It felt almost wrong, as if she was not meant to be in it, as if merely being in it clashed with an integral part of her—the only part she had.

A frown crossed her face—if it _was_ supposed to be hers, but she shook the distracting thoughts away almost as quickly as they came. Now was not the time to mull over such trivial matters when she had a job to do. Somehow, the names for everything unfamiliar sprang to her mind as easily as she caught sight of them, yet she chose not to think further on it.

But then again, didn't she have more than enough time to carry it out? Surely, a little addition wouldn't hurt. It had been so very long since she'd had a chance at anything like this that could potentially be entertaining, after spending a time trapped with only her broken mind and mocking bits of darkness and nothing to do. She might as well make the most of what she had.

Holding the pyramid in one hand—the _puzzle_, according to the images, she bent briefly down to pick at an overturned bag sprawled on its side, rumpled on the floor as if having been carelessly flung. A thin brown cord lay around it in a pool, loosely hung from a hole at its top. With surprising coordination, she undid the cord from the bag and strung it through a loop at the top of the pyramid, fastening the ends together before putting it around her neck. It fit snugly in an upside-down position against the center of her chest, the point suspended just above the waist. The settled weight felt strangely soothing.

Something caught her eye, poking out from the inside of the backpack just a few inches away—_her_ backpack, apparently. Her fingers fumbled slightly as she pulled it out by one corner. A white object, crinkled at the edges with a papery surface and square shape, which her mind helpfully identified as an envelope. It was a little heavier than she'd expected, but she saw why when she dug open the flap at the top.

Yen. There was enough of it in here—no, more than enough than needed. When had this been here? Had the old man—her grandfather, if the images had been any indication—put this here before he'd left? Perhaps. In any case, she sent a silent thank-you to him as she pocketed it. It would certainly be of help.

With that done, she gave the pyramid a final caress, before pushing open the door and making her way to silently descend the steps, down where she knew the phone would be.

She ignored the question that asked, somewhere in the recesses, how she knew where or what it was.

* * *

"_Hello_?"

She couldn't help it. At the sound of the unpleasant voice alone over the receiver, her lips curved into a smile. A small one, but it was enough to tell of what she had planned.

She cradled the phone—such a strange object, really, but using it somehow came as instinctively to her as breathing—near her ear, adjusting it in one hand as she spoke. Her voice felt unfamiliar in her throat, but it came out almost exactly as she hoped it would. "Ushio," she breathed, fighting to keep her tone neutral and low. It wouldn't do at all if her grandfather was awoken by the noise. "It's me. Yugi."

_Yugi_. Yugi Mutou. The name sounded natural, rolling off of her tongue, yet it also felt clumsy and awkward in her mouth. It was imprinted in her mind, clear as day, with the thoughts that told her yes, that was her name, yet there was still that damned questioning—the _doubt _that told her something was off about it.

Whatever it was, however, Ushio evidently didn't share the feeling. His voice was a growl, slightly slurred and punctuated with an obnoxious yawn as if he'd just been awoken. "You? What do you want, Yugi? If this is your idea of a joke—"

"I will pay you." That shut him up, and she took advantage of the pause to continue. "In fact, I thought it would be easier if I paid now upfront instead of tomorrow. Wouldn't you agree, Ushio?"

"_Now_?" The disbelief was obvious in his voice, but he now sounded more awake and alert, something that made her smile widen. "Do you know what time it is?"

"It is twenty minutes until midnight," she replied coolly, glancing up at the clock. The time came to mind as if it'd been instilled into her. "At that time, I need you to meet me at school if you want your payment. No more, and no less."

"Wait, really? _You_—" The word rose on a note to indicate the beginning of a verbal tirade, but she hung up the phone before she could hear any of it. She had no interest in whatever he'd have to say about it; he would come whether he liked it or not. She knew he would.

She would make sure of it.

* * *

The streets were silent, save for a scant few passing cars and the scratching of a cat behind several garbage cans. Heavy footsteps echoed against the pavement, coming from a steady _thump_ of low-heeled boots. Ushio, hands in the pockets of his coat, scowled as his steps came to a gradual stop right before the school, the gates to his back.

Just what was with that Yugi Mutou? Cowering like a squashed bug after his warning for payment, and then having the nerve to call him up to meet him here for it? At _midnight_? What sort of logic was the idiot operating on?

Well, it wasn't like he had anything to really complain about, anyway. He was still getting his money, so did it really matter how weird the way of being paid was when he would receive it anyway? It was the only reason he'd decided to come at all, even after the little brat had hung up on him before he could complain. He looked around, squinty eyes narrowed nearly to slits as he fingered the handle of the knife hidden expertly in his coat. Where _was_ he, anyway? He wasn't so stupid he'd be late for his own requested meeting, would he?

Come to think of it, his voice had sounded pretty funny. Maybe it was just the static from the phone, but the usually rather high-pitched, childish voice had seemed a little deeper than normal when making his ridiculous demand. But not deeper as in more masculine or commanding—if anything, it'd sounded more like a—

"Hello, Ushio."

He whirled around wildly. There, leaning against the wall, stood Yugi. Or..._was _it really Yugi? The one he'd warned earlier that day had lacked any kind of confidence, shoulders in a perpetual slouch with too wide eyes for his face, as if he was forever overwhelmed with something he never knew what to do with. This Yugi looked almost exactly the same, if not for the narrower eyes framed in thicker lashes reminiscent of a girl's and an asymmetrical smile that reminded him uncomfortably of a cat with a mouse in its claws. His shoulders were taut under his school uniform, with his spiked hair a little longer and tufted out at the nape of the neck. His arms were folded across his chest, just below a gold pendant that hung from his neck on a long brown cord.

And that voice. It was the one he'd heard over the phone, not the one from that morning—deeper, a little hoarse, more like it belonged to a young woman than a teenage boy, with odd dips in the pitch.

As uneasy as that made him, he shrugged it off as best he could. Why should he care if Yugi had some ridiculously feminine side with that voice and jewelry? It wouldn't really be a surprise, considering that this was Yugi Mutou—the nerdy, shorter than average bully magnet, who'd never been too much of a hit in the masculinity department. He would be less surprised if that was the reason why he'd stood up for those two bullying him and been so ungrateful for his justice—he could have had a thing going on with one of them that Ushio hadn't been made aware of beforehand. It would certainly explain why he wasn't dating that Mazaki girl, who'd always seemed too good to bother as much with his kind as she did.

"I was starting to wonder when you'd be here," Yugi continued, still talking in that too-feminine voice. "You're a little late, but that doesn't matter. It's good of you to have come."

Ushio's lip curled into a smirk in spite of himself. He had to admit, going all the way here at a late hour was worth it if he got his money, which was the only thing keeping him from socking Yugi Mutou in the nose right then and there. "I have to say, Yugi," he replied smugly, "your choice of time might be bad, but it's when you're paying up—that's enough for me! Now—"

He reached out a broad hand expectantly, fingers flexing. "—hand it over! 200,000 yen, remember! You better have all of it!"

Yugi watched him impassively, eyes fixed intently on his face, and something about that gaze felt unnerving to him—which he found irritating and tried to suppress the moment he became aware of it. This was _Yugi_, a boy who was more than half his height and weight, he wasn't scared of such a weakling. He wasn't _supposed _to be.

After a painfully long moment of staring, Yugi moved his shoulder off of the wall to stand evenly before him. "Not to worry, Ushio," he answered smoothly, pulling out something from the pocket of his jacket. "I have it all here—but it seems I was mistaken in the number. I brought 400,000, not your requested amount."

He brandished it in his hand, forefingers pointed, and Ushio's smirk turned into a toothy grin. All that yen in his hand—_his_! 400,000! Now this was truly his lucky day. Greed in his eyes, he reached out yet again, this time to grab for it, but Yugi shifted to hold it abruptly back and out of his reach. Ushio only had time to blink in surprise before Yugi spoke again, voice brimming with confidence.

"I'll give it on one condition," he practically purred. "You have to play a game with me first."

"What?" Ushio sputtered. "A _game_? You said you were paying upfront!"

"I did," Yugi agreed, smile tilting up further at the corners. "And I will, if you win. Then you get even more than 200,000 yen. How about it, Ushio? One game won't hurt. And it won't be just any game—it'll be a Shadow Game, to liven things up a little."

Ushio's grin grew. One game, even if it was a "Shadow Game"—whatever that was—sounded easy enough for all that cash. "Alright. How do you play?"

"First, we need a tool." Yugi pointed a finger at his side. "For this, it'll be that knife you're hiding."

Ushio made a scoffing noise, but complied and pulled the weapon out from where he'd been keeping it safely sheathed in his coat. So the dweeb wasn't as stupid as he'd thought, after all. But then, he didn't seem anything like he'd thought he would be now.

He laid the knife down on the stand between them, the blade glinting ominously, and in response, Yugi slapped his hand down flat, fingers spread, the bundle of yen balanced in a neat stack over his knuckles. With an all too casual air, he picked the knife up with his free hand and grinned up at Ushio.

"The rules are simple," he said calmly, the knife's tip point resting lightly against the top note of the pile. "You put the money on top of your hand and stab as much of it as you can with the knife without hurting your hand. You keep the money you stab through, and your opponent takes the next turn with the rest left. The one with the most money when there's no more yen left wins, but if you stab your hand or try to quit, you automatically lose, and all your money goes to your opponent."

That sounded simple enough, if more than a little strange, to Ushio. It seemed to be more of a test of strength than an actual game, not that he was complaining. But what threw him off the most about the whole thing was that this was coming from the same person he'd been able to bully so easily into paying him that he might as well be a breathing doormat.

"Well?" Yugi was looking at him expectantly. "Shall we begin?"

"...Fine." With Yugi's unnerving gaze still trained on him, Ushio reassured himself with the thought of winning the game and having more than the money he'd demanded. _This'll be easy_. He had nothing to worry about, did he? It was just a game. Not a normal one, that was for sure, but it'd be up before he knew it and then all the yen would be his to spend as he pleased.

So why did he feel so uneasy?

"I'll go first." Yugi lifted the knife with as much ease as if he'd wielded it before, fingers gripped around the handle as he pushed down. The blade pierced through the notes, sinking through the paper so deeply that had Yugi not been completely silent as he did so without a single cry of pain, Ushio would have thought it had gotten to his hand as well. But sure enough, when Yugi pulled the knife back out, four notes were impaled on the blade, with his hand entirely undamaged.

He examined the knife, plucking the notes off casually. "Hm, not bad," he said to no one in particular, as they drifted down from his fingers to land on the table. "But using a lot of strength without hurting yourself is much harder than it looks. Now, your turn."

His voice carried a foreboding note, as if giving a warning, and Ushio only rolled his eyes in response as he was handed the knife. Who did Yugi think he was kidding? This would be over before either of them knew it.

He then proceeded to eat his mental words when the stack of yen was resting over the back of his hand, knife clutched in the other and hovering over it. It took all his might to steel his arm into being still as a stream of sweat made its way down one side of his face. Ushio gritted his teeth, bushy eyebrows drawn together in an effort to concentrate.

_Careful_. He had to be careful if he wanted his hand to stay in one piece, but the money was practically calling to him and he couldn't stand the idea of losing it to anyone, let alone Yugi. His body seemed to be at war with itself, his grip on the knife alternating between light enough to stab without getting too much to spare his hand and forceful enough to get more than Yugi's four but risk the skin—and possibly the bone as well—of his hand.

"It's hard, isn't it?" Yugi asked, and Ushio's jaw clenched tight in his restraint from not looking up and breaking his focus. His voice sounded almost _amused_, far from the Yugi who'd pleaded for his punished tormentors to be spared from further pain—and still too much like a young woman's. "If you like your hand the way it is, you need to control your greed. Otherwise, you'll just end up stabbing all the way through."

"_Shut up_!" Ushio spat out, sweat beading his forehead. After nearly a whole minute of wavering, he finally steeled his arm enough to stab down. The knife bit cleanly through, coming up with eight whole notes. He held it up, his thankfully intact hand trembling as he let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, as well as a shaky guffaw.

"Heh heh, look at that!" he boasted, his grin from before returning in not quite full force. "Double your amount, and not a mark on my hand! It's more of the strength that does it, you know!"

But Yugi's smile was disconcertingly still present, not even faltering once as he looked on. "Yes, very impressive," he agreed, and to Ushio's irritation, he still sounded as amused as if he thought he was a spectacle to be entertained by than something to be feared. "But don't worry. It'll get harder with each turn, and then your strength will truly be put to the test."

Ushio's grin strained, just the smallest bit, at one corner as he gave the knife, but he decided it'd be best not to respond and give the little creep any satisfaction. They'd see who was laughing in the end.

The game went on, the stack of yen at the stand's center gradually growing smaller and smaller with every passing turn. Surprisingly, and much to his glee, the hall monitor found that Yugi had been wrong: it only got easier the longer it went on, and his arm moved as if of its own accord to strike a perfect balance: enough yen to give him more than Yugi and light enough to avoid ever harming his hand. He could barely contain his smugness at the situation, smirking as he watched the knife flash down to stab through the several notes left perched on Yugi's hand.

When Yugi took it back out, only one note was stuck through the knife, and he tugged it off as usual with that infuriatingly serene, confident air of his. Just where had that come from, anyway? No one suddenly got so maddeningly sure of themselves in merely under twenty-four hours. "There's not much left," he observed, glancing at the now thin pile. "The game will be over soon."

Ushio couldn't prevent the look of pure greed that formed on his face then as Yugi passed the knife, his grin wide enough to bare every one of his teeth. He was sure—no, he _knew _that with this turn, Yugi had no chance. He could easily take these notes, so few in number, and win instantly. The set-up couldn't have been more perfect.

But he realized something was wrong the moment the knife was positioned in one hand and the yen over the other. His arm simply refused to budge when he tried to lower it slightly to make the stab lighter, instead remaining high in the air so that when it stabbed down, it would be with every ounce of strength within. And Ushio was far from weak in terms of physical power; how else had he been able to acquire so many clients?

Once again, the sweat returned, only in tenfold and now covering his knife-wielding hand, which was beginning to tremble as he tried and failed to move it. He bit down on his lip, teeth nearly breaking the skin as he tried to concentrate. It was the first turn all over again, only magnified in the sense of panic growing in his brain and tightening around his throat like a noose, strangling out small noises of frustration. _Why can't I control_ _it_?!

Ushio hesitated for one painfully long moment, watching his shaking hand as it hovered over the yen. His breaths came in small, ragged gasps, becoming increasingly shorter as he attempted to will his arm back. _I'll stab too hard if I can't control it_! His thoughts were a mess, less comprehensible words and more jumbled sentences of fear and desperation. _It's got too much strength_! _And too much strength will stab through to my hand for sure_!

He stared down at the small pile, five notes in total, still lying across his other hand, swallowing back a whimper. By now, his hand had lost all feeling and everything running from his wrist to his upper arm felt horribly, achingly numb. The sensation, combined with the over-excess of strength around the knife, was agonizing.

"I told you this would be a Shadow Game, didn't I?" Yugi's voice was dangerously quiet, but Ushio didn't have to look up to know he was smiling. "A Shadow Game reveals the true nature of a person, and thus decides their fate accordingly. Your greed controls your hand now, Ushio, and you won't be able to hold it back unless you choose: sacrifice your hand for the money or forfeit the game and keep your hand as it is. It's your decision."

Ushio paused, letting Yugi's words sink in until he was struck by a burst of inspiration. Why hadn't he done this before the game had even started? He would have all the money now, without even having to win the game!

His grin returned, forming in fuller force than before. "Thank you, Yugi," he replied, his voice practically overflowing with glee at his own brilliance. "You just gave me a great idea! I might not be able to control my hand now...but who says I have to stab the _money_ with all my strength and hurt my other hand when I can do it without hurting it and still get the money!"

Before Yugi could say another word, he launched his arm through the air, knife poised to strike and aimed directly to his head. "You lose, Yugi! Now _die_!"

But when the blade landed, the tip pierced not into flesh, but through the surface of the stand. Ushio's eyes widened as Yugi simply leaned to the side, the knife _whoosh_ing past him as he effortlessly avoided the hit. He took a step back, standing tall, and suddenly he looked even less like the normal Yugi than before—his eyes were gleaming scarlet like fresh blood from a new cut, his smile now a feral grin as an eye symbol glowed gold on his brow to emit a blinding light.

"Just as I thought." Yugi's voice was triumphant. "You couldn't follow the rules, Ushio."

Ushio could only goggle in disbelief, hardly believing the sight before him, as if taken straight out of anything but reality. His mouth hung open as he gaped, paralyzed with shock. "What...?" he choked out. "A third eye...?!"

Yugi lifted his head, and suddenly the hall monitor had the feeling he was being looked down upon from above, even though that made no sense—Ushio towered over him by more than a few inches. But none of it seemed to apply now, as Yugi spoke and his voice was in that too-feminine contralto, deep and commanding and ringing all around him.

"_The shadows__ have shown all that lies in your heart__._" With every word, the shadows around them became magnified as the one that lay behind Yugi increased in height, more and more until it was rippling around him like a mantle in the ever-growing light. Every instinct in Ushio was screaming at him to run, but they all were blocked out to leave him stuck to the spot, unable to move, as if the numbness in his hand had extended to his entire body. "_You came for judgement, and I pass it now._"_  
_

He pointed one finger, voice rising to a shout. "_Penalty Game_—_Illusion of Greed_!"

And then the light surrounding him burst. It was pure white and consuming, burning, reaching, and Ushio could only scream as it engulfed him like an endless wave.

When it finally faded, he blinked spots out of his eyes in a daze. His mind felt strangely fogged over, too blurred for him to recall just what had happened. But he didn't spare it another thought when he realized just what was falling around him in an endless rain of green.

"_Money_!" Ushio shouted gleefully. He reached out, swiping his arms to catch the yen notes falling from the sky. Just the touch of one against his fingers was enough to send him into hysterics, the very sight leaving him babbling with joy. "Money! _Moneymoneymoney_! _Everywhere_! It's mine! _MINE, ALL MINE_!"

And he began jumping repeatedly in an effort to catch it, grabbing notes and waving them through the air. He was rich, _rich_ at last, more than he could have ever imagined. In his whooping, he was too caught up in his ecstasy to notice a boy discreetly slip out the gates, hands in pockets.

The "boy" chuckled to himself—or rather, herself. Yes, the punishment was more than fitting. Everything had gone well with hardly a hitch. Justice had been administered, the shadows now obeyed her rather than tormenting her, and the Ushio fool was trapped in his delusion of wealth. In the end, it was a win for everyone, wasn't it? He would never harm anyone again, and he'd be all the happier for it.

She smirked to herself as she stepped out into the street, shoes clicking against the pavement as she walked. Releasing the penalty had felt like easing off a pressure carried on her shoulders, a burden from her chest, and she felt a little calmer, now, her thoughts less likely to scramble. Of course, there was still that distinct little sense telling her about how her new body was off, that it was different from what it was meant to be with her, but she shoved it away. There would be more time to think on that later.

After all, she had to get home now.

* * *

The smell of frying eggs was what first greeted Yugi when he opened his eyes that morning, letting out a wide yawn as he sat up, the bed sheets drawn up around him. His head still felt heavy with sleep, more so than usual whenever he woke. He wondered absentmindedly, as he sat up on his elbows, if Grandpa had gotten the eggs right this time. Most of the other several occasions had resulted in a lot of smoke in the kitchen and questions from concerned shop customers.

A glint caught his eye, and he turned halfway in bed, eyes alighting on the completed Puzzle. It lay on one side on his nightstand, a brown cord strung through it, shining in the sunlight streaming in through the window.

_The Puzzle_! The memory of putting the last piece in, the very center with the eye, came crashing back vividly. Nearly breathless with awe, he reached out to take it in both hands. It no longer felt as cold as he remembered it had; quite to the contrary, it was now warm, as if his touch alone had affected it. He ran his fingers over the top in admiration, stroking the eye at the center with his thumb as a smile crossed his face. Eight years of progress had finally paid off.

Paid. _Paid_. His eyes widened in horror as he remembered what else had happened the night before. He'd been panicking about all the money he had not being enough to pay Ushio, and he still didn't have it. That had led to him putting the puzzle together as a distraction from his worrying, then he'd been miserable when he nearly finished it except for the missing centerpiece, and his grandfather had given him advice and the last piece, and then...

Yugi frowned. Then what? What exactly had happened? He tried to think back to the moment right when he'd slid that final piece into place. He distinctly recalled there having been a _click _with it and not a _snap _like the others, which he'd found odd, but nothing else. It was as if everything that'd happened afterwards had been completely wiped from his mind to leave behind only a frustratingly empty space before he woke up the next morning.

Come to think of it, when had he gone to bed last night? He had fallen asleep in his school uniform, but he certainly didn't remember having turned off the light switch or actually slipping into bed and pulling up the covers. And, on another note, he didn't remember ever having this cord with the Puzzle before—in fact, wasn't the cord from one of his old bags? Why was it on there anyway?

"Yugi!" He jumped, foot catching on one of the covers and sliding almost completely over the edge of the bed, arms flailing wildly to keep his balance. "Come downstairs! Breakfast is ready!"

"Coming!" Yugi just barely pulled himself back up, deep in thought. A lapse in memory _was_ a little worrying, but it was nothing compared to the still looming problem with Ushio. He let out a long sigh, clenching the Puzzle. He really was in for it now. All he could do, he supposed, was hide and hope the hall monitor didn't see him around school—which was unlikely, but it was his best hope.

He grabbed his schoolbag, stuffing a fallen assignment sheet in before zipping it shut and slinging it over one shoulder. _I don't know why_, he thought, absentmindedly reaching down to caress the Puzzle again, _but it feels like it's trying to tell me something...did my wish on it work_?

As Yugi stepped out the door to make his way downstairs, he was too intent on following the egg smell—which now had turned acrid as if burning—to notice the faint glow from the Puzzle's eye in response.

* * *

"Hey, look at this!"

"What's he _doing_?"

"Why're all these yen notes here? And what's with the holes?"

"Is that...is that Ushio?"

Chattering voices filled the morning air in the schoolyard, enough to go over Yugi's head as always as he entered through the gates, stifling a yawn behind his hand. He glanced around in surprise at the name, however. _Ushio_? What was going on? Had he done something?

Curiosity stirred, he moved a little closer to the source of the talking, which was a group of students crowded around a spot by an old tree. As he approached, he heard Ushio's voice over the conversation—and, far from filling him with dread and fear as he'd expected, it only baffled him when he heard what it exactly was saying. He couldn't really see it for himself, being so short and having to stand at the back, but he was getting enough from the sound alone.

"_Money_...money, it's mine, all mine!" Ushio was chanting. Yugi leaned sideways through a gap in between two girls in front of him, straining for a look. "This money, it's all mine! I'm rich, _I'm rich_!"

What he could make out was enough to make him inhale sharply, almost frozen with shock. The ruthless, feared upperclassman and hall monitor himself was sitting in a pile of leaves and bits of trash, eyes glazed over in vacant glee as he picked up handfuls from the heap to throw into the air around him. His mouth was parted, a stream of drool trickling down one corner as he laughed. Somehow, even the sound was enough to chill Yugi's blood.

What had _happened_? Had Ushio just lost it? Was he only hallucinating from illness? Numerous speculations bugged at Yugi as, unnerved, he turned away to quietly walk into school. Sneakers squeaking across the linoleum floor, he didn't realize where he was going until he heard a snort above him and, startled, looked up.

It took almost a full minute for Yugi to register that, of all people in the school, Katsuya Jounouchi was standing by his locker. His mop of blond hair hung limply around his head, bangs ruffled over his bandage-plastered face, and his clothes were rumpled and wrinkled almost completely beyond recognition, as if having just dried. At the moment, he was slumped over against the wall, arms folded, eyes closed and head tilted down as if starting to nod off. He gave another snort, mumbling something unintelligible.

"Um," Yugi began tentatively, not sure whether or not to wake him. "...Good morning?"

"Yugi!" Jounouchi jerked forward, stumbling slightly before regaining his balance and resting back against the wall, now crossing his arms back behind his head instead of over his chest. "Oh, good to see ya! Just the one I wanted to talk to."

"How are you?" The question came out before Yugi's thoughts could catch up, mainly prompted by the sight of the bandages marking the areas below Jounouchi's eye and on his jaw. He backtracked immediately, realizing how stupid that must have sounded. "I mean—your injuries. Are they fine?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay, don't worry about it." Jounouchi waved one hand flippantly as he continued, as if getting beaten up by a currently delusional hall monitor was a perfectly ordinary occurrence. "I wanted to ask you a question, actually."

"Really?" Yugi raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "What is it?"

"Well, it's more of a riddle," Jounouchi replied, now moving to prop one elbow up against the locker. He smiled, something that took Yugi a bit by surprise. "I've got a treasure that's in plain sight, but you can't see it. What is it?"

Yugi blinked slowly, pausing to think. _In plain sight, but you can't see it_? He fought the urge to fidget as he often did. "Uh…"

At that, Jounouchi broke into a laugh. Yugi looked up, startled, but it wasn't mocking as he would have expected it to be. The sound was friendly and warm, something he didn't think he'd seen Jounouchi ever do before.

Jounouchi grinned. "Come on, Yugi, it's friendship! _Yu_gi and _Jo_unouchi are in plain sight...but our friendship isn't! Invisible!"

_Yujo_. Friendship. Yugi blinked again, before breaking into a smile of his own. He even found himself returning the laugh. "Ah...yeah!" he beamed. "Yeah. I got it."

Jounouchi scratched the back of his head, his grin becoming slightly sheepish. "Uh...so, I guess this means I'll see you around, then?" he asked. He darted a glance at the clock. "I mean—oh, great, is it time already? Gotta get to class. And—uh—"

He paused. "...What you did back there yesterday with Ushio—that was brave. You showed me that was real friendship. I just wanted to say thanks."

"Oh—it's no problem, Jounouchi," Yugi said, a little flustered. "Anyone would've done it."

"No, I mean it." Jounouchi clapped one hand on his shoulder, smiling. "Seriously, thanks. And—" He stole another glance at the clock and blanched, cutting himself off. "—great. Seriously, gotta go. S-see you later, Yugi!"

And without waiting for a reply, he leaped into a hasty bolt down the hall, face bright red at the mushiness of what he'd been saying. However, in his sprint, he didn't notice as something flew off of his foot. Yugi stared after him for several seconds before he realized something.

"Wait! Jounouchi!" he shouted, running to catch up with a faded white sneaker in hand. "You forgot your shoe!"

* * *

**(More) Author's Notes**:

And that wraps up the very first part. Some clarifications, in case it wasn't clear in the chapter:

-The shadows tormenting Yami aren't actually talking. She just imagines their voices from having gone off the deep end from three thousand years of being trapped alone inside the Puzzle.

-Yami is female, but Yugi's body stays physically male when she takes over. Like in canon, the only modifications to Yugi's appearance when she's in control are to the eyes and the hair. Since they're of opposite genders in one body, this causes a lot more confusion for Yami.

-Yami's voice is still deeper than Yugi's, but is now meant to sound more like a contralto.

-Yes, Ushio was calling Yugi gay when wondering why he suddenly looked more feminine. Note that his views don't necessarily reflect my own.

I also made several edits to the first chapter, mainly to change and take out some words, add some parts, and generally improve it. Again, please review and let me know what you think.


	3. The Eyes That Lie

"Yugi?"

"Hm?"

It was late afternoon, the sunlight's pattern on the floor of Yugi's bedroom indicating the hours ticking slowly towards early evening. Anzu tapped her pencil absentmindedly against the top of her chair, brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she tried to think of what else to add. The paper, a little crumpled in her hand, was covered in her neat script down to the halfway mark.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been there, her on the desk chair and Yugi on his bed, unfinished essays out with hardly any progress. The minute she'd come in, they'd gotten caught up in conversation over the dance lessons she was looking into, which had led to a debate about the merits of one teacher over a certain one who had also happened to be related to a world-famous video game creator. Their papers might as well have been invisible until the talk had died down in their mutual attempt to concentrate, into some silence that she'd broken now.

Anzu finally put her pencil down on the desk. "Do you have any idea what else we're supposed to add? I don't think Mr. Nakamura got this far."

"No," Yugi replied resignedly. He rolled over from where he'd been lying on his bedspread, flopping onto his stomach and bringing his paper down with him. "Now that I think about it, I'm not sure he knew what he was talking about when he assigned this. Penguins live in Antarctica, not Australia."

"Yeah." Anzu looked over her essay for what had to be the hundredth time that day, scrutinizing it. It looked fine so far, as much as she could tell. Not award-worthy, but decent enough for the teacher's standards. "Want to take a break?"

"Sure, why not?" Yugi glanced at the clock. "It's been almost two hours, anyway. Is there anything you want to do?"

Anzu paused to ponder that, and then gave a shrug. "Anything's fine for now. I'm just glad I finished that other big report for Ms. Chono."

She and Yugi then chose that moment to share a look and a shudder.

"Maybe that's why this essay doesn't make sense," Yugi joked in a mockingly whisper-like voice, cupping his hand around his mouth for emphasis as if passing on a terrible secret. "He was too busy anticipating a 'marriage interview' with her."

"Pfft." Anzu blew air from her mouth, shaking her head as she tried to stifle a giggle. "You don't think he's _that_ deluded, do you?"

"Well, not 'deluded'," Yugi conceded with a small grin. "But really, really hopeful. Which _is _admirable."

"Come on," Anzu scoffed, though she returned the smile. "Anyone who wants a chance with that kind of woman is pathetic, not admirable."

"Depends on what you think 'pathetic' means," Yugi ribbed. He propped his chin up on top of his palms, elbows out and feet crossed over in the air. "Does being persistent about something that seems hopeless make you pathetic? Because that might say something about me with the Puzzle."

"Yugi!" Anzu let out a mock-scandalized gasp, reaching to smack him lightly on the shoulder. He could only laugh in response, arm nearly giving out from under his head. "Calling yourself pathetic? Why, I should penalize you! It's a crime, you know, to put yourself down like that," she teasingly scolded, wagging a reproving finger at him.

He tucked his arm back up again, shaking slightly as he muffled more small snickers behind his hand. "Oh, I guess I'm really in trouble now," he shot back teasingly. "But I did say it only _seems _hopeless, at first." He held up the Puzzle, still looped around his neck on the cord, for emphasis.

Anzu wiped the corner of her eye as her own laughter gradually ceased, though she was still smiling. "That's true," she conceded, but her tone took on a serious note when she continued. "Really, though, Yugi...don't say that about yourself. You're better than that. You finished the Puzzle after a lot of hard work—that's something, isn't it?"

At that, Yugi cracked a weak smile. Of course, Anzu would say that, never having let him put himself down when she was around. "Yeah, I know." He touched his fingertip to the cord running through the Puzzle's top. "I still can't believe it's really done, but I think it granted my wish."

"Really?" Now Anzu put on an expression as if in deep thought, hand against her chin. "Hmm. You didn't wish to get rich, did you?" she asked, a playful glint in her eye. "Or maybe a car? New shoes?"

"Hey, my shoes are just fine," Yugi protested sheepishly, kicking one leg out to emphasize his point. Anzu pretended to duck. "But a car would be nice. I didn't wish for any of those, though, so you'll have to try again."

"Oh, so now this is a guessing game?" the brunette asked, amused.

"You made the suggestions," Yugi pointed out.

"Fair enough," Anzu conceded, leaning back against the desk. "I just hope your Puzzle isn't one of those things that twist wishes to be literal and mess everything up. Like that saying goes...'be careful what you wish for', wasn't it?"

"Mm." By this point, Yugi was only half-listening, gaze fixed on the pyramid as it lay on one side on the blankets with its eye facing him. He couldn't help noticing the way a particular corner gleamed and how the cracks and grooves between the connected pieces ran together like lines in a spider web, twisting and turning. "Yeah. But I don't think this will do that..."

"Really?" With anyone else, the word would have sounded skeptical, but Anzu was more curious than anything. "What makes you say that?"

That was enough to get Yugi's attention back. He glanced up almost immediately in response, faltering once he wasn't focused on the Puzzle. Now that he thought about it, Anzu had a point. What _had _compelled him to say that?

He didn't know how to put it in words, not now. If he tried to explain, Anzu probably wouldn't get even a quarter of the idea. But it felt, almost, as if the Puzzle was trying to..._communicate _with him, somehow. Sometimes he picked up on little things, snippets of emotion that felt out of place with his in a way that could be compared to someone transplanting another person's feelings into his own. They were often random and came completely out of nowhere, such as more frustration than usual when he tried to focus on a particularly difficult bit of schoolwork. The Puzzle seemed to alternate between hot and cold constantly that always, strangely enough, corresponded with his moods and thoughts—warm when he was happy or angry, cool when neutral.

All of that, over the past few days, felt far too complicated and a little contrived to explain without sounding delusional or over-imaginative, neither of which Yugi was. Well, alright, he _could _be over-imaginative, but that wasn't the point.

"'...Just a feeling," he replied lamely. "One of those things you can't really explain, you know?"

As he spoke, he instinctively thumbed a corner of the Puzzle. But with his gaze on Anzu as she decided to change the subject, he failed to see the dim glow from the Puzzle's eye in response.

* * *

"Hey! Yugi!"

Yugi started, still in a half-doze. He glanced wildly around, shaking his head slightly until he saw who it was. Almost at once, he no longer felt that tired. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, smiling as he waved back at Jounouchi, who was practically running to catch up with him.

"So," Jounouchi huffed as he slowed to a walk next to him, "did you see it?"

"What?" It took a second before Yugi realized what he was talking about, and his face heated up. "Oh. Uh—"

"I couldn't see any of the important stuff," Jounouchi went on. He squinted, holding up his forefinger and thumb with a small gap in between them near his eyes for emphasis. "Even when I squinted! The stupid mosaic kept getting in the way..."

It was at that second in which Yugi wondered exactly why he'd thought swapping porn tapes after school with Jounouchi was a good idea. It'd seemed sensible yesterday, but now he wasn't so sure. He'd just been relieved at the time he finally had someone to talk about the thing without feeling embarrassed or awkward.

"Don't worry, though!" Jounouchi lowered his fingers just as quickly, flashing him a grin. "I think I might have another version of it lying around somewhere. I'll lend it to you sometime!"

...And then that doubt flew out the window. "R-really?" At this point, Yugi was sure the color of his face would be able to put every shade of red imaginable to shame. "I mean—yeah! Sure!"

"You have to wonder why the mosaic's even there on that copy, though." Jounouchi put on a particular expression, as if he meant to have an inner monologue but was voicing it instead. "What's the point if you already know what's..."

His voice slowly died and he came to a stop, eyes widening as he started to gawk at something over Yugi's head. Confused, Yugi turned around, only to end up gawking himself.

Just a few feet away, a van was parked outside the school gates. In this case, the van was the kind that was used for filming and transporting camera equipment, an overwhelming sight that looked terribly out of place near such an ordinary school. It was a stark white to the point of appearing almost pure in the sunshine of the morning, offset only by the bold black lettering of _ZTV_ marking the side.

Yugi wasn't sure how much time had passed before Jounouchi finally broke the silence. "Look at that!" He pointed, his voice torn between sounding disbelieving or excited. "It's a real television van! A _television van_, Yugi! At _school_!"

He paused, pondering aloud. "Though...why's it here? Of all places?"

"Wow..." Yugi breathed, awestruck. The sight of the thing alone was enough to set his imagination off—stars and idols came to mind, smiling brilliantly into flashing cameras and posing on sleek magazine covers, pens out for autographs. "Maybe there's an idol visiting! Or...they could be reporting news about something."

"Like what?" Jounouchi continued to goggle at the van, craning his head at various angles to get as thorough a view of it as possible. "Nothing happens here, unless you count Ushio with his leaves—hey, hold on! Yugi, what—"

The rest of his words might as well not have been spoken for all the effect they had on Yugi. "I'm just going to take a look!" he called back over his shoulder, setting off at a quick walk to the van. When he reached out to touch the side, as if still wanting to check that it was indeed real and not some wild hallucination, the metal was cool under his fingertips.

He stood up on his toes, heels lifted off the pavement as he tried to straighten up to see in through the window. But once his head was level with it, all that was in the glass was his own face with no indication of what lay behind it.

"That's weird." Yugi pressed both hands to the window, raising himself up a little higher. His cheek brushed against the glass as he moved.

"What's in there?" Jounouchi asked from behind. "See anyone?"

"No," Yugi admitted. He leaned in, bangs flattening as his forehead touched the glass. "I can't see anything. I think it's a one-way window!"

He continued trying and failing to peer in, sometimes teetering in his attempt to stay perfectly upright, with Jounouchi looking on in curiosity. Neither could notice exactly who was on the other side—it would be all the worse for them, and all the better for the other.

* * *

In the van, lounged in the driver's seat, Director Ryuto* sat back with a groan. The stack of papers rustled as he set it down, hand coming up to rake through the greasy black hair under his backwards-facing baseball cap.

The big suits at the network really didn't pay him enough for this job. His newest project was a documentary on violence to be aired on the show _Survival Morning_, as requested by the viewers. He'd been more than happy to pick it up in the first place, but after an entire morning on the first scheduled day of filming failing to find a star for it, he was starting to reconsider the idea.

Honestly, it was so frustrating. He'd specifically chosen Domino High for the documentary's setting because of its infamy in certain circles for its school board's habit of turning a blind eye towards the rampant bullying and harassment problems in the student population. Yet none of the numerous students he'd seen passing through by the van, which had been parked here for the purpose of staking out to find the star, fit the bill for who he needed. They were either too tall, too good-looking, too sociable—too _normal_.

It wasn't all bad, considering that an attractive senior girl passed by occasionally and left him free to ogle her figure with no worry of her seeing him. But otherwise, it was just a bore.

Maybe he should have gone with another project. A documentary about school violence couldn't be the only thing the viewers wanted, right? Why they wanted something as boring as that in the first place was beyond him.

Not a moment too soon, he heard movement outside. He started, sitting up as he adjusted his cap. Someone was talking, right next to the window—no, two someones. Both boys, from what he could tell, and too young to be men but too old to be children. More high school students.

Curious, he glanced to his left and to the window, only to nearly jump out of his skin at the sight. Pressed flat against the glass were the hands and face of a boy—short enough to be mistaken for a child if not for the collar of the Domino High boys' uniform, with ridiculously spiky hair and huge eyes. He was mouthing something to the tall blond behind him, talking about not being able to see anything, a one-way window—but Ryuto hardly listened to any of it. All he could hear was the reporter's voice over a bullying montage, narrating the plight of the poor little boy right outside his van.

He cracked a wide grin, bushy eyebrows scrunching together as he took out his camera to snap a photo for reference. "I've finally found him," he chuckled lowly to himself. "The star of the project."

* * *

"Good morning, everyone! Here we are, at the scene for your weekly broadcast of _Survival Morning_!" The camera was rolling, recording the film as the reporter spoke. She held her microphone in one perfectly manicured hand, gesturing behind her to the school gates with the other. Class would have long since begun by now, leaving all staff and students within the building oblivious to what was taking place on the property.

She delicately brushed a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear before she continued, voice high and light. "Today, the camera's getting our most exclusive scoop yet! Get ready to relive your old school days!"

Ryuto watched her as she spoke. He tapped the rolled-up documentary script against his chin, leering at the reporter whenever she moved enough for her suit jacket to open slightly over her chest and making occasional gestures to the cameraman, but not doing much else. The most important part of the piece had yet to come.

"Cut! Alright, wrap it up!" he finally shouted, clapping the script against his palm. "After this, the report'll be at the 'bullying scene'! Break!"

As the camera was turned off and the reporter, job done, went to put her microphone away, he leaned back to recline in his director's chair. He mulled his plan over, pausing to run it through his head again before he made his decision.

"Hey! You, assistant director, come here!" he shouted.

Not even a minute passed before said assistant director, Fujita, came running up, slightly out of breath. Unlike Ryuto, he was a young man who could pass as a senior teen, with a martial artist's headband encircling his head beneath dull brown hair and a fairly bulky build. He was new on the job, which was good for Ryuto. Newbies never knew what they were getting into until it was too late.

"Yes, sir?" Fujita asked.

Ryuto took out the photo, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he handed it over. "Find the kid in this picture," he ordered. "Bring him here in any way you can. I need him to star in the documentary, pronto!"

Fujita raised his eyebrows as he accepted the photo. Looking at it, however, was enough for him to have to stifle a snicker. "Wow," he choked out, unable to keep down a grin. "Yeah, this kid looks like the star, alright..."

"Exactly." The director snapped his fingers. "Perfect for the project! All you have to do is beat him up at the designated spot, and we'll get it all on camera, just like that. The network'll have to be happy with the ratings—they wanted a documentary on violence, so they're getting it."

The grin slid almost immediately off of Fujita's face, being replaced just as quickly by a slight frown. He pursed his lips. "Beat him up?" he echoed skeptically. "Is it really fine to just film people getting beaten up?"

Ryuto scoffed. "You don't get it, do you? How long have you been in this business?"

Now Fujita looked sheepish. "Well...uh, half a year," he mumbled.

"Not even a year?" Ryuto threw his head back and laughed, the sound akin to a cackle. Thankfully for the awkwardly standing Fujita, it only lasted a few seconds before the director ceased. He leaned forward in his chair, pointing an index finger at the younger man.

"I see," he said lowly, grinning widely. "You need someone to show you the ropes. I'll handle that. From now on, you can be my apprentice!"

Fujita did a double take. "Your—your _what_?"

"Apprentice, apprentice!" Ryuto repeated impatiently. He leaned further, further until his finger was practically prodding Fujita in the cheek, much to his obvious discomfort. "You'll be my apprentice! I'll teach you all you need about the network, the films. Now, your first task: you play the school bully for the camera!"

* * *

"What? An _idol_?" Anzu's voice was skeptical.

The bell had just rung, signaling the beginning of the lunch break. Around this time of day, Yugi usually stayed in the classroom with Anzu—or, it could be more accurately said, she stayed in the classroom with him. He didn't have a lot of options to work with if he went out like most of his other classmates, and almost all said options involved sports or physical activities that did nothing to help him about his height insecurity. There had been a few times Anzu had gone with the rest of the class, but otherwise, she preferred staying in, usually to get extra work done.

Now, it was different. Or it was going to be, anyway. Jounouchi certainly wasn't content with the idea of just staying in the classroom for the break, not when there could be an idol on the loose at Domino High.

"Exactly!" He sat back on top of the desk, elbow on top of his knee. "Why else would there be a television van parked at the gate? Come on, it's not like this happens every day! Yugi saw it, too, right, Yugi?"

Yugi only smiled sheepishly. "Yeah...he's right, Anzu. It _was_ there."

"Well...yeah," Anzu conceded. "But if there really was an idol here, don't you think someone would have seen her? And I haven't heard anything about it all morning."

"Pfft!" Jounouchi scoffed. "Obviously, she's going undercover. She'll be in disguise as a student!"

"But why would an idol be here, anyway?" Anzu pondered. "Of all places..."

"Come on, do we _have_ to know why?" Jounouchi protested. "The point is, she's here. I bet a lot of people would pay for a picture of her at this school. I'll find a way to unmask her for it!"

"Unmask?" Yugi laughed nervously. "Jounouchi, that's—"

"—stupid," Anzu finished dryly. "If there really _is_ an idol here, then how're you going to pick her out from so many students?"

"I'll know her when I see her!" Jounouchi replied confidently. "You can just tell with their type."

"How would you know? You can't just ask her who she is!" Anzu retorted.

"Are you saying I can't figure out who someone is without them telling me?" Jounouchi argued.

As the two devolved into bickering, Yugi only sighed. Sometimes, he had to wonder if they would've tolerated each other's presence at all if it hadn't been for them both considering him a friend. Anzu may have adjusted to Jounouchi being around more quickly than expected, initial hostility notwithstanding, and vice versa, but that didn't mean they themselves were friends, did it?

However, he reflected, he could have said the same for him and Honda. He had stopped picking on Yugi and Jounouchi still hung out with him, but they hadn't individually spoken since the incident with Ushio.

"Yugi! You agree with me on this, right?" Jounouchi turned to him expectantly, cutting off the beginning of Anzu's would-be rant.

Yugi blinked. "What?"

"Don't listen to him, Yugi," Anzu groaned, moving a hand to massage her forehead. "I'm pretty sure what he's planning is illegal."

"There's nothing illegal about unmasking an undercover idol!" Jounouchi snapped.

"The way you're planning to probably is!" Anzu shot back.

They promptly resumed their arguing, complete with creative hand gestures and repeatedly overlapping sentences. Yugi only sighed and checked the clock. Still another hour before the end of the break. He could only hope the fighting didn't last the whole period, but given how the people involved were both stubborn and more than a little headstrong, it didn't seem too likely.

_But Anzu has a point_, he thought. _Why_ would _an idol be here? That television van's here for something, but what?_

* * *

Almost half an hour later was all it took for Fujita to find himself walking out of the boys' locker room, his stride a little awkward in his "borrowed" uniform that felt a little too stiff for wear. He fumbled around in his pants pocket briefly before coming up with the photo he needed to find the star, holding it in two fingers.

He pulled the jacket more closely around his shoulders, grumbling under his breath. At this point, he was sure beyond a doubt that he'd never felt this stupid in his life. Sneaking into the school by taking a uniform and blending in with the crowd, trying to pass as a teenager, all for a documentary? If this was what always came with being an assistant director, he would find it an ideal chance to start thinking about other job opportunities.

The halls were empty as he made his way down, his footsteps echoing, and he frowned to himself. The position of the sun in the sky indicated noon, so it'd be lunch break. Students would be either eating in their classrooms or running around outside, leaving him free to look for the star without worry of being distracted by other teens or questioned by a teacher. But on the other hand, this meant it'd be harder to find the star in the photo—he could be in any of the classrooms or any spot outside.

New, chattering voices and footsteps sounded down the hall, and Fujita nearly jumped out of his skin in a cold sweat. When he looked up, it was a group of boys—five at most—heading through, the leader with a basketball in hand. One boy, brown hair up in some kind of forwards-facing spike, trailed along a little at the back as the only one not to add much to the conversation.

He tensed, frozen in mid-step as they moved closer, closer until they were passing by. They were too involved in talking about some girl that their leader hadn't called back to even spare him a passing glance, except the one with the spike. Much to Fujita's horror, the boy stopped and turned towards him.

"Hey, you okay?" the boy asked. His expression could best be summed up as a combination of confusion and concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Oh—uh, yes! I-I'm fine. Perfectly fine," Fujita found himself rambling. He gave himself a mental slap as soon as the words left his mouth—_stop being stupid_—just as the photo slipped from his fingers.

He caught it at the last second, nearly dropping the thing as he flipped it over in his hands. The boy raised his eyebrows.

"Erm—" Fujita seized on an impulsive strike of inspiration, turning the photo to face him completely. "Do you know who this is? I found this—this picture, see, and I've been looking for—"

He cut himself off to avoid rambling further and possibly, with his luck, blabbing about why he was really here. If the boy noticed, he didn't give any indication so, as he only regarded the photo with some mild interest.

"Oh, that's Yugi." His tone was neutral, but in the way that indicated that on the spectrum, he wasn't leaning towards the positive end. "From 1-B. He's in my class."

Without waiting for an answer or further questions, he resumed his walk after the group of boys, who were now rounding a corner into the next hall. Fujita blinked.

"Thanks!" he called, if only to say something as he stuffed the photo back into his pocket. The boy didn't turn around to respond, but Fujita didn't stick around to wait for one in the first place. With a glance at the signs above the classroom doors, he started to follow them.

"Yugi from 1-B, eh?" he muttered to himself as he went. "Can't be too hard finding that."

Now that he knew where to find the star, a certain problem was rearing its head: how on earth would he get him to the filming spot? He didn't have much time—it wouldn't be long before lunch break ended and all the students went back to class, staying in with their books and projects until it'd be well past the time the director wanted to get the documentary done.

He'd have to do it fast, Fujita decided. Behind the gym, most likely. Yes, that was it. He'd just lure the kid behind the gym, beat him up, and then he'd be done. The idea of being anywhere near Director Ryutoafter this was enough to make his skin crawl.

"I've really sunk low this time," he muttered to himself bitterly. "Do all assistant directors end up like this? I wonder..."

Lost in his thoughts and self-pity, he'd grown so used to the sound of footsteps passing him as he walked that he didn't even register the ones going by now as he looked for his designated classroom. At least, not until he heard a voice.

"Come on, Yugi!" It was followed by the _thump_ of a clap against a back. "How about we go find that idol?"

The word shot through to Fujita and sent him crashing back down to earth. He stopped in mid-step, almost frozen with bated breath, as another voice answered—more timid, less loud and enthusiastic.

"Um...are you sure?" It was almost squeaky to the point that it could be likened to a child's.

"I've never been surer in my life!" Fujita finally found his breath, exhaling as he slowly turned towards the voices. A blond teen, tall and somewhat scruffy, was walking with someone. Specifically, the spiky-haired kid from the picture.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect. Now, if only he could get that kid away from the other one...

He watched, waiting for the right moment. The kid—_Yugi_, he reminded himself—looked naive enough to dupe into going with him, but he was sure that with the bigger one around, he wouldn't have a chance at it. Although Fujita wouldn't hesitate to use his fists when necessary, he wasn't in the mood right now for a struggle.

"I don't know, Jounouchi..." The hesitation was almost palpable. "What if Anzu's right? That van could be here for something else..."

"Oh, not you too!" the blond groaned loudly, raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. "She's just a skeptic! You gotta have _faith _in this kind of thing, Yugi!"

"I'm not saying I don't, Jou—" Yugi began, but Jounouchi cut him off.

"Hmph! I'll prove it to you, then!" He pumped a fist into the air so abruptly that Yugi ended up knocked back to the side. "I bet you she's here somewhere. _And I'll have pictures to sell_!"

"Jounouchi—" Yugi started again.

"Bye!"

Not even a second later, Jounouchi was dashing off down the hall, spinning around a corner before disappearing from sight. Yugi could only watch him go, mouth slightly open as his face showed his struggle to understand what exactly had just happened.

Fujita stared after Jounouchi, a little surprised. That certainly had been easier than expected. Not that he was complaining.

He finally moved, though he might as well not have for all the notice Yugi took of him. His back was still turned, and Fujita could hear him talking a little to himself, sounding more confused than anything. He swore he heard a "_but...you don't have a...camera..._" in there somewhere.

Fujita cleared his throat. "Hey! Yugi!"

The reaction was immediate. Yugi jumped on the spot, whirling around so suddenly that the spikes of his hair seemed to flap back. He blinked in confusion as Fujita forced his face into a friendly grin—or at least an attempt at it. "Oh...um, hello," Yugi replied. "...Who are you?"

"My name's Fujita!" The assistant director declared. Before Yugi could get out so much as a "nice to meet you", he stole another glance at the clock from the corner of his eye before going on. If he wanted to keep his job, he had to hurry. "I'm a new student. And I heard you and your friend—you want to know more about that idol, right?"

At that, Yugi gave a sheepish smile. "Oh, yeah, that. Uh, I guess so, but I think it's Jounouchi who wants to really know—"

"Because I know she's here at this school," Fujita continued. His grin was starting to become a little strained, but he hoped it wasn't too noticeable. "Right now, actually!"

"...Really?" Yugi raised his eyebrows. He didn't look as excited as Fujita had hoped, but it was obvious he didn't think he was lying, either. Which was enough.

"Well, _duh_!" Fujita scoffed, as if the statement was as obvious as the grass being green. "In fact, I think you two would get along great! She really likes meeting new people, you know. We're pals, so I can introduce you!"

Maybe he was getting a little too carried away, but Fujita couldn't bring himself to care less. Lying through his teeth was better than losing his position—it was all he had now, even if it was under a slime ball like Ryuto. And, not surprisingly, Yugi's eyes were growing wider by the second with every word.

"Come on!" Fujita took advantage of the pause, which he took to mean just sheer speechlessness. "She's behind the gym. She'll be leaving soon, so if you want to see her, you'll have to hurry up!"

On that note, he turned and began to walk away. For the first time that day, he actually felt satisfied with himself to the point he couldn't help giving himself a mental pat on the back. It wasn't that hard, after all, to sucker the kid into the documentary.

He couldn't help but look back over his shoulder, if merely for one more thing. He could practically see the conflict written on Yugi's gaping face, the cogs moving in his brain as he thought his offer over, and he demonstrated a great show of self-restraint by not laughing at that moment.

"Oh, and be sure to come alone!" Fujita called. "She doesn't like meeting too many new people at once—it's from some bad experiences with fans. Really secretive. Hope you understand."

He kept up the grin as he spoke, the muscles in his face starting to ache at the corners from the effort of keeping it that way for longer than he would've liked. When he turned around the corner to disappear from sight, he finally gave in to laughing.

He made sure to muffle it behind his hand, of course.

* * *

Yugi still wasn't really sure what had exactly happened.

After Jounouchi and Anzu had ceased their arguing at last to agree to disagree and they'd all sat down to lunch, Jounouchi had only just swallowed the last of his rice before he'd invited Yugi to go with him outside and join the other guys in playing basketball. Yugi had tried to protest, explain that the team he joined usually lost and he wasn't really cut out for physical sports in general, let alone basketball, but Jounouchi had insisted on another try. He'd invited Anzu, too, but she'd declined with a complaint about the last time she'd joined the game, it'd turned out to only have been an excuse for the guys to look up the girls' skirts, and that she had Mr. Nakamura's essay to make some last-minute edits to anyway.

Yeah, maybe having an incredibly deep debate about the cons and pros of Broadway shows and forgetting about the essays until she'd had to leave hadn't been the best of ideas yesterday.

Then when they'd been walking, Jounouchi had sprung the "idol at the school" theory on him again, and that had ended with him running off in hot pursuit. Yugi was left wondering whether he'd actually prompted that, or Jounouchi had been planning to find the idol and the whole "go out to play basketball" thing had been a ruse to throw off Anzu's skepticism. Maybe he'd just said something wrong, like he did too often...

And now, some guy named Fujita he didn't recognize from any class—but he looked far older, maybe he was a senior?—had come up to him, claiming he knew the idol and she was, in fact, just behind the gym. It all sounded like something out of one of those corny teen dramas he and Anzu had always made fun of on movie nights.

Yugi was torn. It sounded too good to be true, and the timing was too perfect to be really believable. Wasn't it a bit awfully convenient that someone who knew the idol just happened to meet with him, right after he had been discussing said idol with Jounouchi? It could just be a practical joke to mess with him.

Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't. He wouldn't know if he didn't find out, did he?

Now he found himself wishing Jounouchi hadn't gone running off, or that Anzu had come with them. They would know what to do almost immediately, not just stand and dither in the hallway like he was at the moment.

A full minute must have passed before he made his decision and resolutely stepped forward. He'd just go and see. That couldn't do any harm, right?

After all, what was the worst that could happen?

* * *

It was amazing how well Yugi's feet knew the way to the gym when he was too lost in thought to actually notice where he was going. One minute, he had been inwardly debating whether or not to go, whether or not to find Jounouchi and bring him along if he decided to go, and why this sort of thing had to happen anyway.

And the next, he was approaching the corner around the back of the gym, pebbles from the asphalt grinding under his sneakers as he walked. Maybe it was just him, but he could hear voices—one of which sounded suspiciously like Fujita.

Something about the whole situation made him uneasy. "Fujita?" he called out. Immediately, the voices stopped. He thought he heard a hasty "_Shh_!", but he couldn't be sure. He didn't recognize it, that was for certain.

"Fujita?" he repeated. His voice wavered slightly as he turned around the corner, glancing in several directions. He managed a weak little smile. "I'm here..."

"Ah, Yugi!" He jumped—_again_—before seeing it was Fujita. Funnily enough, only Fujita. He was standing there, grinning so widely with his hands in his pockets that Yugi could count every one of his teeth from one glance alone.

"You're just in time," Fujita continued cheerfully. "I'm glad you turned up! I was a bit worried you'd be late."

Yugi looked around. The lot behind the gym was empty, save for the unattended weeds poking up in patches through the cracks in the asphalt and the bushes lining the back chain-link fence. There was, as far as he could tell, no one else but them.

His stomach gave a funny lurching sensation, one that he recognized as dreadfully similar to what he'd always felt right when he realized he was going to be bullied. "Fujita, if you don't mind me asking...where's the idol?" he asked. Something was clearly off about the situation.

"Oh! Right, the idol!" Fujita grinned even more widely, which did nothing to reassure his unease. "Yeah, about that. The truth is..."

But it only jumped when he leaned in, hand around his mouth as if passing a secret. _The_ _truth_? Yugi had to wonder. _What truth? What's he_—

The thought was finished when Fujita's smile contorted into an ugly scowl and his arm snapped up in one fluid motion, the fist slamming across his jaw. Yugi barely registered the pain bursting through his face at the impact before it was followed up with a second hit, harder than the last. And another. And another.

Yugi couldn't even groan. All he could do was wobble slightly on his feet, blinking stars out of his eyes, as he mentally berated himself. He was officially stupid. So _stupid_. How could he not have seen it before? A guy just _happened _to know the idol and wanted him to come alone to meet them? Pathetic. He should have known better, given how many bullies in the past had tried similar tricks like this before. He was so _pathetic_...

He would've given himself a mental punch, too, if he could, but Fujita was doing enough of that for him in reality.

"Aha!" A man was shouting, practically cheering somewhere in the background, and Yugi only vaguely wondered who it could be before Fujita's fist launched into his nose. "Yes, that's it! Great! Keep it up! Be more flashy! More _dramatic_!"

"Moron." Fujita's voice sounded over the shouting, just before an additional hit came. He was breathing hard and heavily, almost as if he were the one being beaten. All that was keeping Yugi on his feet now was Fujita's fingers pulling him up by his hair, gripping around the roots tightly enough to leave bald patches if he yanked hard enough. "There's no idol. _There never was_!"

_Yeah, I think I got the message_, Yugi wanted to say, but his jaw felt too broken to move.

Another punch. This time, Yugi's knees gave way to fall, but Fujita caught him by the uniform collar and kept him up. Yugi saw his fist raised, ready for another hit, and he braced himself. How long was he going to keep this up? Yugi supposed he should be grateful. At least it was only at the face—

"_HEY_!"

The voice was akin to a douse of cold water. Fujita's fist faltered slightly. Yugi blinked owlishly, hardly breathing as he felt a bit of tentative hope slowly rise. _Could it be.._.?

"You creep! _What_ _the hell are you doing_?!" Jounouchi came leaping out of seemingly nowhere, a look of pure fury in his features. Yugi could have cried with relief at the sight. He also could have apologized profusely, begging forgiveness for being such an idiot to fall for Fujita's lies and requiring him coming to the rescue. He could have said a lot of things, but all that came out was a little half-groan, half-whimper of pain.

The blond skidded to a stop, pausing only to roughly shove Fujita to the side with one hand. Yugi nearly collapsed from the removal of the pressure at his chest, but Jounouchi easily caught him.

"Yugi!" He shook him, worry now taking over. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I—he—" Yugi winced, his mouth barely able to move without pain shooting up through his jaw. But Jounouchi didn't wait for him to finish, instead whirling on Fujita.

"You _jerk_, what were you doing to him?!" Jounouchi snarled. His hand shot out, grabbing him by the collar. "I'll kill you, do you hear me? _Do you_?!"

It was amazing, Yugi dimly reflected, how quickly the tables had turned. Now Fujita was shaking, sweat beading his face as he cowered under the weight of Jounouchi's glare. "I—I didn't want to hurt him!" he stuttered weakly. "I s-swear...please don't hit me...the director—he made me...!"

Jounouchi's glare wavered in confusion. He stared at him. "What? Director?"

"Alright, that's enough!" _That voice again_, Yugi thought dazedly. There was a rustling from the bushes before a man stepped out, large and square-shouldered with a backwards baseball cap over a shaggy black ponytail. He smirked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jeans. "Good work, Fujita. I'll take over from here."

"Why..." Jounouchi's jaw set. His grip on Fujita's collar tightened, his knuckles starting to whiten, and Fujita whimpered. Yugi wanted to tell him to stop, to hold back because he wasn't worth that murderous anger on his face. "So it was you. _You _made him do this to Yugi!"

The director raised his eyebrow. "So what if I did?" he asked, an amused note in his tone. "I didn't do this for no reason, y'know."

"What good reason would you have for making someone beat up Yugi?!" Jounouchi spat. "You're—"

"Jounouchi." The name came out as a croak, and Yugi winced again, feeling the ache in his jaw increase. But it got Jounouchi's attention, snapping his glare at the director to concern for him, so he kept going. "I—I'm sorry...I wanted to see if there was an idol—I just—"

"Don't apologize!" Jounouchi interrupted sharply. "It's not your fault. Those creeps were just lying to you!"

Behind the man, some leaves parted to reveal a camera poking out, held up to the eye of an accompanying person. The director waved him off in irritation, however. "Hey, cut! We don't need to record this kind of teenage melodrama. It's a waste of film!"

He turned back to Jounouchi's responding scowl, demanding answers. With a roll of his eyes, he complied, using one finger to absentmindedly pick at his ear. "The reason? Well, we needed the role of a 'bullied child'. For the documentary, anyway. Yugi here was unlucky enough to be picked for it. Just a bad roll of the dice, really.."

He paused, before his face abruptly broke into a huge grin. "But now, thanks to him, we've got a great documentary! He's perfect for the viewers! They'll feel so sorry for him. You're the hero, Yugi. The hero of the broadcast!"

That did it. The look in Jounouchi's eyes was enough to tell Yugi that there'd be no way he could talk him out of this. "_You—_"

He dropped the pale and shaking Fujita, who stumbled back helplessly as his hand shot out again. He yanked the director forward by the front of his shirt, his other fist pulling back. "I'm gonna kill you, _you son of a_—"

"Ha!" The director snorted, his smirk only widening. He regarded Jounouchi's raised fist smugly, not even fazed. "Go ahead and hit me. But the cameraman'll get it all on tape!"

Jounouchi blinked. He turned, jumping in bewilderment as the cameraman moved behind him. "Wha—"

Ryuto's knee slammed upwards into his chest. With no time to react, Jounouchi could only let out a small gasp, a "_gah_" as his legs started to buckle, bending in on themselves from the impact. The director watched him impassively as, after a few long seconds, he pulled his knee back and the blond collapsed completely.

"_Jounouchi_!" Yugi cried. Getting hurt himself was one thing, but seeing his own friend get hurt because of him was another entirely. In that instant, he forgot everything—the pain in his face and how much everything in his head hurt and how he could barely stand, dropping all of it to get his feet to move. They carried him in a run, frantic and desperate, to Jounouchi's side.

He heard the director nearby, but faintly. "Do you finally get it?" he chuckled. "It's the power of the camera. You can do anything with it. You can make reality for it! The public can only see your faces through that, and you'll be held up just for them to pity! _Ha_!"

As he laughed, Jounouchi let out a low groan of pain. Yugi felt himself shaking as he knelt next to him, hands on his shoulders, never hating himself more than he had at that moment for being so useless to stop any of this. The sound of the director's laughter rang in his ears, making a hollow sound. His throat was so choked that he couldn't speak. That same feeling seemed to be spreading through his chest, numbing it over like ice under the increasingly warm Puzzle.

"But don't worry!" Ryuto turned away arrogantly, motioning briefly for the cameraman and Fujita to follow. They obeyed, scampering after him like dogs with tails between their legs. "Your faces will be blurred out with mosaics. Then they'll still see you, but they don't have to _know _it's you! Thanks for your help!"

Something was pounding through his head, pulsing like a heartbeat as he watched them leave. It grew louder, steadier and stronger.

_He hurt Jounouchi_…

There was a voice that came with it, or was it the voice that was the source itself?

_He hurt my friend for trying to_—_protect me_…

It sounded coldly calm, seething with a fury that was just aching to break to the surface. It sounded like him, it interspersed with his thoughts almost perfectly, but at the same time…

_He hurt my friend_—_over a reality he set up on camera_—_a lie for ratings_—

It was growing more and more unhinged, the words becoming increasingly scattered and random as the Puzzle began to burn, to glow.

_A lie he was just lucky enough to get_—

—_because I happened to be_—_good enough for his role_—

—_of a helpless victim_—

—_helpless_—

—_a lie_—

—_he was just making a_ lie—

And then it was finalized, with a thought that he wasn't sure of, one that could have come from him or the voice or both because he didn't _know_ anymore, none of it was making sense anymore—

_Maybe he'd like to test that lie and play a _game.

The final word was a hiss, breaking from the edges of his mind until it gave way to blackness and the Puzzle's heat burst.

* * *

"Seriously, how did this happen?"

"I told you—_ow_! Watch it!"

Jounouchi winced as Anzu prodded his chest with one finger, checking for bruises. He swatted her hand away irritably, nearly falling off of the desk he was perched on as he did so. "It's not that bad!"

"What _happened_?" Anzu asked again. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion as she regarded him, folding her arms across her chest. "Did you find the idol? What?"

"I—well, no," Jounouchi admitted reluctantly. At Anzu's expression, he immediately jumped to the defensive. "Hey, don't give me that look! There really could have been an idol! There might still be one, but that's not the point! See, there was this director—"

"A director?" the brunette repeated skeptically. "What's a director got to do with any of this?"

"It has everything to do with this!" Jounouchi snapped. "Yugi! Help me out here!"

"Yugi, what's he talking about?" Anzu demanded at the same time.

They both spun halfway around towards where Yugi had been standing just minutes earlier, having helped Jounouchi back to school. The lunch hour was nearly over when they'd returned, but they still had several minutes to spare before class. Somehow, they'd gotten all the way from the back of the gym to homeroom in what felt like seconds without even running.

Guilt had pricked insistently at Jounouchi the whole way as he'd walked, half-leaning on Yugi. He'd apologized for running off, that he must have sounded really stupid, although he really _did _think there might be an idol. But Yugi had never answered, hadn't even looked at him, and Jounouchi would've taken that as refusal of forgiveness if it hadn't been for him keeping his hand tightly on his shoulder to steady him in response.

Come to think of it, Yugi had been acting a little weird after the director had left. It could have just been his imagination running away with him again, but his hair had looked spikier, his eyes a little sharper. There'd just been some different _air _about him, something more self-assured than the Yugi he usually saw.

But, to his surprise, there was only empty space where Yugi had been.

Jounouchi and Anzu both gaped. After several painfully long moments, Jounouchi was the first to find his voice. "...Where'd he go?"

* * *

It was getting increasingly late at the studios of ZTV. The day had come and gone, making way for the night to fall and the late-time shows to air. Only several would be staying behind for the broadcast, leaving the majority to clear out through the parking lot and head home. Headlights flashed through the darkening air as various cars pulled out and turned onto the highway, rushing off in scattered droves.

"I really think it's your best work yet." The man's voice echoed around the indoor lot, bouncing off of the walls with the sound of footsteps around the cars. He regarded the director politely, adjusting his glasses as he headed on his way. "If this doesn't get you a promotion, I don't know what will. It's staggering!"

Ryuto snorted, unable to suppress a low laugh. "Aw, well, you know what they say," he replied smugly. "Give 'em bait and they'll always bite!"

"Yes, yes." His more formally dressed colleague took a glance at his wristwatch as he spoke, before raising a hand in farewell. "Thanks again. I'll see you in the morning, director. Good night."

"'Night." Ryuto didn't bother to watch him go, fumbling with his keys slightly as he pulled them out of his worn jean pocket. The other man's steps faded gradually until he heard a door slam shut, followed by tires screeching as a car moved out.

"Heh..." He grinned to himself, fingers curling around the main key as he began to insert it into the car door's keyhole. If he'd been able to get away with this, he could only imagine what else he could do. Altering reality for the camera made it all harmless in the end when it got in ratings. Fujita surely knew that now, as his new apprentice.

"Maybe we could get someone killed on camera," he muttered to himself. "Who cares what Fujita says? It's not technically illegal if we just catch it and we're not really involved. It's all about what the _viewer_ wants, anyway..."

As he twisted the key, he noticed the car's attached rear-view mirror out of the corner of his eye. Something gold flashed in the glass before he fully saw what it was. "What—?!"

Behind him in the mirror was the kid from earlier, the star of his documentary. Yugi Mutou, wasn't it?

But what was he doing here?

In fact, was it even really him? Those eyes were too narrowed, the expression far too menacing for someone so small and weak. And he looked taller, almost, or maybe it was just the lack of the constant slouch in his shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest, one pale hand clutching the upper arm. And his eyes...why were they now red?

He was smiling, like he had when he'd walked obliviously into the set-up. But that smile seemed to be a mockery of the previous one, now a brittle and teeth-baring line that belonged more on the face of a horror film villain than a high school student.

"I've* been waiting, director." Yugi's lips moved when he spoke, words steely, but the voice caught him off-guard. The effect was as if his voice had been swapped with a woman's, a woman of more class and confidence. And that pronoun—_atashi_? What guy with any sense of self-respect used such a girly word for himself? "Are you surprised to see me? I was out by the door for quite a while..."

"You're—you're that Yugi brat," Ryuto found himself stuttering in disbelief. But at the verbal reminder of who he was dealing with—the little _kid_—he felt anger surge up. "What the hell are you doing here, you stupid boy, it's the middle of the night! How'd you even get here?! Don't tell me you want an actor's payment!"

"An actor's payment?" If anything, Yugi's smile seemed to widen, which did nothing to settle the sweat starting to break out on his forehead. "No, no, you're sadly mistaken. I just...have my ways. And I'm afraid you have stumbled into the realm of my heart. Anyone who comes in must face me in a game, if they wish to leave."

"A game?" Ryuto's eyebrows shot up. What was _with_ this kid? First meek and mild-mannered, ideal for a bullying victim, and now some effeminate creep who talked crap about hearts and games? If it hadn't been for the similar appearances, the shared hair—save for the new sticking-up strands of blond this one had—and that weird pyramid necklace they both had, he would have thought they were different people entirely.

"Yes." The new Yugi's hand dipped to his side in a fist, coming back up to open and reveal a single white-and-black die nestled on his palm. Ryuto's eyes widened slightly. When had that been there? "We'll use this to play. It'll be a...game of fate, you could say."

_Pfft__._ A game of _fate_? Who did this boy think he was kidding? Ryuto's mouth contorted in a sneer, but he continued to listen. This might be good for some laughs. If only he had his cameraman with him to record this lunatic; that might pull in something worth getting out of this bullshit.

But, most irritatingly of all, he actually felt a little uneasy. Something was distinctly very much wrong about this whole set-up, and it wasn't just the premise of a stupid high school student coming up to him from nowhere to challenge him to a game in his own workplace. No, there was something far more to this—he just couldn't place his finger on what it exactly _was_.

"Here are the rules," Yugi went on. He held up the dice delicately between his thumb and forefinger, and Ryuto noticed, a little warily, how the top where the single ebony dot to represent "one" lay had two markings around it to make some kind of eye. "Once I roll the die, you roll as well. If you can get a lower number than mine, you win. If you get the same number, you still win."

"Hm." Ryuto pretended to take this in deep thought, mulling over whether or not it'd be worth it to call for security on the brat. He rubbed his goatee with one finger. "Let's say I agree. What do I get out of this if I win?"

Yugi rolled the die smoothly, over and over in his fingers. "If you win," he replied coolly, "then you may use me in future episodes and documentaries whenever you wish. You can even have me killed on camera, if you want."

Now _that _certainly got his attention. The director perked up, a slow smirk making its way onto his face. "Really, now?"

"Yes, really." Yugi regarded him, retaining that disturbing little smile, and that was enough to make his own falter somewhat. "But if _I_ win, you get a Penalty Game by default. No negotiations or exceptions."

At that, Ryuto had to laugh. "A _Penalty Game_? What's that, your idea of a present?" he mocked. "This is stupid. How do you expect me to win with your set odds? Try changing the rules and maybe I'll reconsider, brat."

"Ah, pardon me, director." Yugi lifted the die, fingers opening. "But rules are rules, especially when it comes to fate. Now...let's begin."

The die fell through the air in a single drop, hitting the floor with a _click_. It rolled over as it landed, bouncing against the concrete with a steady _clack_-_clack_ until it slowly, slowly came to a stop.

On the side that faced upwards were six dots.

"_Ha_!" Ryuto pointed a finger at the die, grinning in satisfaction. "Six! I automatically win! I don't even have to roll the die! Now, you're my personal TV star!"

But, to his discomfort, Yugi didn't look fazed at all—not even having the grace to look a little shocked at how quickly he'd lost. If anything, he seemed entertained, as if the director were some silly dog chasing its own tail. "You're very lucky," he agreed, and _why _did he sound so much like a woman? "But the game's not over yet. It won't hurt to take your turn anyway."

Ryuto's teeth gritted together in annoyance. That stubborn brat. Couldn't he just accept he'd lost? There was no point in playing this dumb excuse for a game any further. This would have all been a waste of time if not for Yugi's agreement, and even then.

He grabbed the die up, nearly crushing it in his grip. "Fine! Then I guess while I'm at it, I can just leave a hole in your face! You won't be needing it anyway—there's always the mosaic!"

And he hurled the die as hard as he could.

It had just escaped his hand when he swiveled on his heel, not even bothering to look behind him at the result. He knew the die would make its mark, as illustrated by the _clack _as it fell again.

But maybe Ryuto would let himself give the benefit of the doubt and look just to see the result. Why not? He'd already won.

The die had landed on one dot, surrounded by those markings. The lone eye.

"Hah!" Ryuto was triumphant. As if winning on the first roll before his turn hadn't been enough, now he'd gotten the lowest number possible to beat him. "A one! I win!"

He turned away again, laughing to himself, until Yugi's voice stopped him cold. Somehow, it was enough to send a chill up his spine, akin to one as if a gun was being pointed at the back of his head. "No, I don't think so. I believe it's time for a Penalty Game..."

_Penalty Game_? "What?" Ryuto asked in disbelief, whirling about. "What the hell are you—"

His voice died in his throat when he caught sight of the die. It lay on the floor at his feet, still landed on the one, but a closer second glance told him what position it really was in: split in two, half with the one and the other half splintered apart nearby. He'd missed the other half when he'd been too focused on the top of the die itself.

Six dots on the other half. _Six_, and _one_...

He stared at Yugi, eyes widening. The boy was holding up his Puzzle, the sharp bottom point flashing at him, with a smile on his face that said everything.

_Shit_.

"No—no, please—" Ryuto didn't know why he was suddenly begging, pleading when he'd been so full of himself about his victory mere seconds before. But the boy's eyes, the way they _gleamed_, told him that whatever the boy was talking about wouldn't end well for him. He tried to move, to take a step back, to run. He could run, right? It wasn't as if he'd be able to catch him, he was heads taller and his legs were longer.

But to his horror, he couldn't move. He was stuck to the spot, fear rooting him to the ground as those horrible blood-colored eyes and that damn _smile_ bore into him. The pyramid necklace swung back and forth like a pendulum as Yugi let go of it, raising one hand to point a finger. When he spoke, his voice echoed, reverberating through the lot and off the concrete walls and piercing through his mind.

"_PENALTY_ _GAME_! _ILLUSION OF MOSAIC_!"

Gold flashed around his fingertip, bursting into markings that resembled those on the top of the broken die. They shot forward, glowing a pure and blinding white. It was everywhere, searing into his eyes, and he couldn't even open his mouth to scream because there was nothing left—

When it finally ended, it didn't take the burning sensation behind his eyes with it. Ryuto blinked several times, a groan escaping his throat as he squinted. The spots from the light were fading, giving way. He tried to focus, tried to will himself to move.

"Ah...ah..." His fingers were clutching around his face, twisted over his eyelids in a vain attempt to shield them. Gradually, he lowered them.

_What..._?

Everything was blurred together to the point of being pixellated. There were still colors, but they were all mixed together, the hues too sharp with no smooth lines in sight. He couldn't even see the kid in front of him, just a bunch of pixels in the shape of spikes over a body's outline. He couldn't see his car when he whirled for it, it was left as only a lump of red.

A mosaic. It was all a mosaic, he couldn't see, he couldn't feel anything but that. _Just_ _that_.

He hadn't realized he'd fallen until, dimly, he heard a _thump_. The floor was hard under him, solid and firm as it should have been, but it was all wrong. It was only pixels, _pixels_, a mosaic of grays and whites and cracks. And the die, the broken parts—they were dissipating, fading into tendrils of black that curled upwards like smoke until they had disappeared, as if they were never there at all.

It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. This whole damn _game _didn't make sense, why, why, _why_—

Faintly, he heard approaching footsteps. Yugi, the not-Yugi, that brat with the pointed finger and all that gold, looked down at him. He would have scowled up into his face, swore at him, cursed him, but all that there was of him in his eyes was a mass of red and gold, white and blue. Incomprehensible. Inhuman.

"Director..." The voice sounded faint, but he could hear the steeliness in it, the scrape of scorn. "You twisted reality for the camera to suit your own needs. You tried to mask it with mosaic, to hide what damage you cause. Therefore, it's fitting, is it not? You will see the world through a filter of mosaic from now on, as long as you'd like. Just as you wanted, director."

The words were salt in the wound. That Yugi knew this, he _did_, and Ryuto would have liked nothing more to punch him, to _hurt_ him for this if he could. But he only turned away, his pixels fading, and so he could only gape helplessly.

His screaming could be heard from the floors above.

* * *

The other Yugi's steps were even and calm, steady with her head held high. She turned a corner as she walked, out through the lifted doors and into the outside parking lot. The night air was cool and breezy against her face, stirring slowly through her hair.

She smiled grimly to herself. That director had gotten no less than what he'd deserved. He was pathetic, really. Laughing, smirking, so full of bravado until the tables turned to leave him begging for mercy he wasn't entitled to. Not after what he'd done to Jounouchi, to her.

Or him? No, that wasn't right. She was a she. A _her_. But she was also a _him_.

It varied. Didn't it? Sometimes she was a _he_, a boy, "boku". Sometimes she was a _she_, a girl, "atashi". But she was only a girl in these games, when the darkness demanded to be fed and she gave it what it desired, anything to keep it placated, being granted what she needed for her games in return. There were two things it'd given her now; the path to the director's studio and the die that was now broken. And she was female according to them, the shadows. So she complied.

But the other Yugi couldn't help feeling some sense of struggle. There was that question, pricking insistently at the back of her mind. Was she really Yugi? Was that truly her name? It had to be, there was no other reason why it wasn't. She'd looked through the memories provided and they told her that was her name.

They'd also told her she was actually a boy. Yet, she didn't follow that.

So, if that part of them was wrong, if she was really not a boy, or at least not always a boy...

Then what was she? Who was she?

_No_, she decided firmly. She couldn't think of that, not now...she had to go home. She was tired, and the stars in the sky, the moon shining down, told her it was late. Her grandfather would be worried sick.

Hands in her pockets, she began her way back to the shop.

* * *

"Yugi! Yugi, you there?"

"Wha—?"

Yugi shook himself out of his doze, head jerking up. Involuntarily, his mouth opened in an enormous yawn as he staggered and nearly tripped over a stray stone. He started to shake his head. "Sorry, Jounouchi. What did you say?"

Jounouchi huffed. "I asked, where were you yesterday? You just disappeared after we got back to school when lunch was nearly over, and Anzu and I couldn't find you anywhere! It was like you'd skipped out or something!"

"Huh?" Yugi stared in confusion. Out of all topics he'd expected his friend to bring up on their morning walk to school, this was lower than the last one he'd anticipated. And, now that they were nearing their destination through the gates, he wasn't sure if now was the best time to go into it. "Wait, we—we got back to school? After that director...?"

"Yeah." Jounouchi looked at him oddly. "Don't you remember? You helped me get up and we walked to class, and Anzu was really fussy about us, asked what happened and all that. You didn't say anything, though. How come?"

Yugi would have liked more than anything to give him a satisfactory answer with that expression on his face, of both concern and confusion. And a hint of regret. An apology for running off yesterday and letting him end up beaten by Fujita. He wished he could reassure him, tell him it was fine because it really was, and he couldn't still be mad over something so silly.

But there was the problem: Yugi _had _no satisfactory answer. He had none in the first place. The last thing he remembered was kneeling next to Jounouchi on the ground while that director had laughed at them, feeling slowly overwhelmed by anger at himself for being so stupid, the director for hurting and humiliating his friend. And then...

He frowned. The last thing he remembered was his grandfather shouting from downstairs that he'd be late if he didn't hurry up, jolting him awake. He'd stumbled through brushing his teeth and jumping into his clothes, and he'd hardly gotten through breakfast before he was rushing out the door. After him, his grandfather had called not to come home so late again, but he'd barely heard him.

That was all, and it disturbed him. What had _happened_? No matter how hard he racked his brain for any hint of what exactly he'd done in between those two times, nothing came up. Literally nothing. All there was left was blank, dark space, a lapse where what Jounouchi had said happened should have been.

It frankly scared him.

But he couldn't let Jounouchi know that. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to worry about him, and it was unthinkable after he'd already burdened him yesterday with getting injured by the director for his sake. The same went for Anzu. They both deserved better than that.

So Yugi did what he could: he improvised.

"Well..." he stalled sheepishly, trying to find the right words. "I wasn't—I didn't feel too well. My throat kind of hurt after, you know, what Fujita did. So I went to the nurse's, and she thought it was really bad, so she made—she made me stay in her office for a few hours. That sort of thing."

"Oh." Jounouchi looked immensely relieved, and Yugi couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the sheer gladness in his eyes. "That makes sense. But do you feel any better?"

"Yeah, my grandpa said it was nothing I couldn't handle," Yugi replied. "He can be tough that way. He's right, though, I'm—I'm fine."

"You sure?" Jounouchi paused, and then his face split into a grin. "Because I might have something that might cheer you up."

"What?" Yugi perked up. Anything that might cheer him up sounded better than worrying about the lapse.

"The goods!" The blond pulled out a cassette tape from his bag, holding it up triumphantly. The label on the side marked it as exactly the copy he'd been searching for, in all its uncensored glory. "You have no idea how long it took to find this. But I swear, it's worth it!"

"Wow, uh—thanks!" Yugi managed. He returned the grin as Jounouchi handed it to him, tossing it up in his fingers. It sailed through the air in an arc, and he reached out easily to catch it as Jounouchi snickered. "I'll definitely watch it tonight! Grandpa will be out, so I can—"

Another hand intercepted the tape as it fell, closing around it in one quick motion. Unfortunately, it wasn't Jounouchi's.

"Why, what's this?" Anzu winked, looking over the tape in what appeared to be great interest. "Wow, this looks _interesting_! Mind if I borrow it?"

For one painfully long second, neither Jounouchi nor Yugi thought that they were breathing. Finally, Jounouchi spoke, hand shaking as he tried to grab for the tape. "Anzu—!"

"What is it?" Anzu smirked playfully, snatching it back out of reach. She started to walk towards the school, waving the tape teasingly. "I'm sure it won't hurt if I take a look..."

"Anzuuu!" Jounouchi and Yugi chorused desperately. Jounouchi was the first to move, running after her as she carried it off. "Come on! You're not being fair!"

And Yugi could only follow, flailing frantically, but just a little relieved somewhere that things had gone back to normal. Maybe he could stop worrying so much. Just a gap—two gaps. Two losses. There wouldn't be any more.

Right?

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Sorry this took so long! School got in the way a lot, let's just say that much.

* The ZTV director in the manga never is given a name, other than just "director". The closest thing to a name he gets anywhere else is "Lucius" from the Dungeon Dice Monsters game, according to the YGO wiki. Because that name sounds out of place in the Japanese setting, I went for an alternative that could be a counterpart, "Ryuto".

* There are numerous different ways to say "I" in Japanese, and they all are various ways of indicating the speaker's gender, age, class, etc. In canon, Yugi uses "boku", the standard polite term for young boys, while Yami uses "ore", a more masculine and slightly ruder pronoun. Here, Yugi still uses "boku", but Fem!Yami uses "atashi", a more feminine form of "watashi". "Atashi" is rarely used by males unless in a joking context and can be signified as a "camp gay" stereotype, hence why it seems strange that Fem!Yami uses it while looking like a boy.

The reason I had Fem!Yami use a girlier pronoun than in canon was because in this AU, where she and Yugi are of opposite genders in one body, she has trouble telling whether she's male or female. This is especially complicated by how she thinks she's Yugi, a boy, but also knows she's actually a girl. The use of "atashi" is something of an "anchor", so to speak, as the only thing she's 100% sure of about herself.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!


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